


Shutdown

by Anobii1992



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Caring, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jack in one chapter, Post Prison fic, Sensory Deprivation, TLC, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27479470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anobii1992/pseuds/Anobii1992
Summary: Yaz stared at him in shock, her brain struggling to comprehend what was going on. How could the Doctor not be dead? She had left them to sacrifice herself. How had she gone from that to prison? And how could they bring her back?This is just the first chapter of something I have had floating round in my head for a while and will deal with each of the five senses.
Comments: 169
Kudos: 91





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> If this is something you would like to see me continue please let me know. It will deal with each of her senses one at a time and will have lots of hurt/comfort, angst, love and friendship.

Yaz paced up and down the tiny cottage anxiously, still not quite managing to wrap her head around the events of the last twelve hours.

It had been a perfectly ordinary, mundane day. The same as all her other days since the Doctor had sacrificed herself, whispering ‘live great lives’ to her friends before turning her back on them and her life without so much as a backwards glance.

That had been ten months ago.

Then she had been sitting in her flat last night, her flat not her parents flat, she had moved out a while back to get them off her case, when there had been a flash, a bang and none other than Captain Jack Harkness standing in her living room.

Yaz had simply stared at him in shock at first, her brain struggling to understand what the hell was going on.

But that was how she had ended up here, on this tiny, remote, peaceful Scottish island, what felt like it could have been thousands of miles from anyone else though that probably wasn’t true.

Because the Doctor wasn’t dead. Not according to Jack anyway But she was in prison, he hadn’t been sure how long for, and he was leading a rescue attempt for her and several other prisoners.

Jack hadn’t gone into details but from what he said, the conditions inside the prison were grim which was why he had brought Yaz to the cottage, apparently she might need some TLC… well Yaz could do that if the Doctor would let her. The woman had never permitted so much as a hug before.

Jack hadn’t said much, no sooner than Yaz had agreed to go with him had she been teleported here. She had been given a very quick tour of the well-stocked cabin – food, wood for the fireplace, medical supplies before disappearing as quickly as he had appeared, promising to be back with the Doctor ‘soon’.

Out of a need for something to do rather than necessity Yaz put another few logs on the fire which was throwing out a warm, cosy glow. The cottage was made of stone and seemingly off the grid though there was plumbing and a generator which was something she supposed, even if it did appear that the fire was the sole source of heat against the bitter Northern winter. She had lit lamps in the main room and bathroom and made sure there was plenty of water already heated if the Doctor wanted to bathe. She had prepared a simple meal, unsure how long it might have been since the Doctor would have eaten and she had made sure there were clean, fresh sheets on the bed. Other than that, Yaz wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do while she waited seeing as she had no idea what condition the Doctor might be in or what ‘TLC’ was likely to entail.

Yaz took another look around the cottage. It was clean and tidy, the furniture was made of pine and the walls the same rough stone as outside though at least inside someone had made them smooth. There was a large bed heaped in blankets and soft pillows in one corner with a dresser beside it. At the other end of the hut was a small kitchen with a table and in the middle was the large fireplace and an extremely comfy sofa. Outside was some of the most stunning scenery Yaz could imagine, an almost wild beach, grassy paths, waves crashing over the shore, heather in the hillside. If someone needed peace to recover, this had to be the place to do it.

Yaz glanced at her watch again. She had been waiting for hours. What was taking so long? She got up off the sofa and resumed her anxious pacing. It was funny, it was a habit she realised she had acquired after the Doctor died… didn’t die. It was something the Doctor had always done in times of stress, or happiness, or excitement, or when she was upset or pretty much constantly really. She had never been one for keeping still and it had driven Yaz mad… until she hadn’t been there to do it any more.

There was a flash outside and Yaz ran out to see Jack kneeling on the ground with a… with a something clutched in his arms.

Yaz ran forward for a better look, desperate to see her friend again… but she didn’t recognise the figure that Jack had laid out carefully on the sand.

It was clad in a jumpsuit that may once have been red but was now so filthy its original colour was anyone’s guess. They had long, tangled, matted, greasy hair down past their waist but again, it was so dirty it was impossible to tell what colour it was supposed to be. Their skin… it was so deathly pale and mottled by bruising while the baggy jumpsuit didn’t hide how terribly, cruelly thin they were.

Yaz turned and staggered towards a clump of bushes where she threw up violently.

“Yaz pull yourself together!” Jack shouted at her.

Yaz forced herself into a standing position and lurched back towards them, dropping down to her knees. She willed herself to reach out and touch the figure’s pulse point but there was no reassuring double heartbeat. There might have been one, very slow and fain,t but equally she might have been imaging it.

“Is she…?” Yaz choked out, unable to say the words.

“Not yet.” Jack answered grimly.

“What the hell happened to her Jack? It doesn’t even look like… are you sure it’s her?”

Jack looked at her with pity.

“I know.” Yaz conceded.

“She’s been in solitary. Don’t know how long… I think maybe a decade? More likely longer. It’s hard to say…”

“Did you say more than a decade? She’s been in solitary for more than ten years?” Yaz whispered in horror.

“Yaz focus. There are hundreds of prisoners on that ship, none of whom should be there and only eight of us on the rescue team. I can only stay with you for a few minutes.”

Yaz took a deep breath, trying to slip into her professional mode.

“Why is she like this? What does she need?” she asked urgently.

“I can't be sure, but I read something once about Timelords. About how when they’re deprived of stimulation their senses slowly start to shutdown one by one. The cell she was in Yaz. It was empty. Just bare rock. No light, no sound, no heat, no bed or blanket. Nothing. Just emptiness. She had clawed out tallies for a while in the rock with her fingers, that’s why they’re in such a state, it’s how I know she was in there for so long but I don’t know how long it might have been since she stopped that.”

“Doesn’t she need medial care? _Proper_ medical care?”

“No one knows how to care for Timelords anymore Yaz. She’s the last one remember? Other than the Master and even if I knew where to find him, I wouldn’t trust him. And no one can know where she is. She’s technically a fugitive until I get this mess sorted but I will Yaz… I will get it sorted. Until then… just do what you can. This whole island is basically a fortress, you’ll both be safe here for as long as you need to be.”

“Do what I… are you serious Jack? I have a first aid certificate! She’s barely breathing! She could have serious injuries.”

“She doesn’t Yaz. The prison wouldn’t allow that. She has minor wounds, but she’s completely shutdown, she’s been starved of any kind of contact or stimulation possibly since before you were born. Just do what you can to start reversing the damage. I’m sorry, I have to get back to help. But I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

“Jack, you can't just leave us here…”

“Yaz, I _can't_ stay with her. I have a responsibility far bigger than just the Doctor. I have hundreds of lives depending on me. Bringing her here to you was a favour to an old friend and no one else is getting the same treatment. Here’s the spare vortex manipulator. It will take you home when she’s ready if I’m not back first.”

Jack pressed the device on his wrist that was the same as the one he had just shoved into Yaz’s hand and was gone.

Yaz looked down at her friend. She hadn’t moved or reacted in any way to the freezing cold air coming off the Atlantic coast but she was icy to touch. Yaz scooped her up, she was no heavier than a small child, and carried her inside.

Now what?


	2. Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in two hours and have not proof read, so I apologise for any mistakes! Lots of hurt, no comfort yet!

Yaz had no idea what on earth she was supposed to do. The Doctor had opened her eyes but that didn’t seem to mean anything. Yaz couldn’t even work out if that meant she was conscious. She was breathing, that much she knew. But the single, slow, sluggish heartbeat couldn’t mean anything good.

“Doctor, can you hear me?” Yaz asked.

Nothing.

She waved her hands in front of the Doctor’s eyes and realised with a start that there was something wrong with them. They had always been bright and sparkly, a gorgeous shade of hazel green and while she wouldn’t expect them to be like that after more than a decade in solitary confinement, the more she looked at them the more she was sure there was something wrong with them. They were shrouded, almost like there was a layer of film or something, muting their colour. Suddenly Yaz had a sickening thought about what Jack had meant when he said about sensory shutdown. She hadn’t understood but now…

“DOCTOR!” Yaz shouted at her.

Nothing.

Taking a breath Yaz stood up and walked into the kitchen. If she was wrong, this would probably terrify the living daylights out of the Doctor. She rummaged for a moment in the cupboards until she found what she was looking for: two large, heavy cooking pots. Stealing another look at the Doctor, Yaz held the pots tightly and banged them together as hard as she could. The resultant clang should have been enough to wake the dead, Yaz could feel the vibrations up her arms and down her body, but the Doctor didn’t even flinch.

She couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear…

Yaz knelt back down beside her and carefully rolled up her sleeves. Her arms looked like they belonged to a skeleton, like if Yaz touched her in the wrong way her bones would break. Yaz rubbed the Doctor’s arm hard and gently scratched it with her nails, careful to avoid any of the injuries that she had.

Nothing.

And she drew the line at deliberately hurting her to get a response.

Yaz was crying as she gathered more supplies out of the kitchen, a disgusting orange she had found and thrown out that stank to high heaven, vinegar which she knew the Doctor hated and a packet of custard creams. She waved each scent under the Doctor’s nose trying to elicit a response. She held the custard creams back, the Doctor loved custard creams but…

Yaz cried harder as she propped another few pillows behind her friend, careful to support her head as she did so. When the Doctor was semi upright Yaz broke off a tiny corner of custard cream and, as gently as she could manage, pulled the Doctor’s chin, forcing her to open her mouth as she placed the biscuit on the Doctor’s tongue.

It fell back out. 

Yaz couldn’t help it, she backed away, openly sobbing now as she stared at the Doctor. She needed proper medical care – mental and physical. She had a bloody first aid certificate and no back up whatsoever. She felt sick and before she knew what was happening, Yaz found herself throwing up violently for the second time that evening though at least this time it was in the sink. When she was finished, she found her knees could no longer hold her upright and she slid slowly down the counters, shaking violently as she stared at the woman she had once considered her best friend. When she had though the Doctor dead it had been terrible. Somehow, this was worse.

 _Stop it!_ Yaz mentally scolded herself. _She needs you. She has no one else in the entire universe right now. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and help her!_

Shakily getting to her feet, Yaz crossed the room to be with the Doctor. She had no way to communicate with her right now, that much was obvious, so what were the priorities? Food obviously, bath, treating her injuries, clean clothes and into bed would be a start. After that… well they would have to take it one hour at a time. Then they could start thinking about a day at a time. Yaz had a feeling that it would be a while before they were able to think any further ahead than that.

Food first. It was going to be less invasive than bathing her and less painful than treating her injuries. What did the Doctor like other than custard creams? Fried egg sandwich.

Yaz made the Doctor the simple meal, adding loads of butter to the bread for a few extra calories and cooking the egg just the way she knew the other woman liked it. But how to get her to eat? She took the Doctor’s hand and guided it to the bread but that didn’t produce a response. She cut off a tiny piece and held it to the Doctor’s swollen, chapped lips but that didn’t have any more success.

Maybe something sweet would be better. The Doctor loved sugar.

Rummaging in the kitchen, Yaz found a variety of foods and brought them over, placing them on the small wooden end table. One by one she held small mouthfuls up for the Doctor to try and tempt her to eat but she didn’t even acknowledge their existence, let alone try to eat them and Yaz let out a frustrated sigh. How was she supposed to get food into the woman when she couldn’t even let her know there was food there?

Yaz swallowed thickly. The Doctor had been here for a few hours and already she was failing her. Yaz swallowed again, trying to hold back tears.

Wait, swallowing, that was a reflex wasn’t it? Something that was done automatically and without a conscious decision.

Yaz stood up and rushed back towards the kitchen and frantically started rummaging through the drawers until she found what she was looking for. A syringe, like parents used to give their babies calpol. There was a blender under the cupboard and Yaz poured in a generous glug of milk and added a single banana. She would have to thin the mixture way down but hopefully it would get something into the Doctor’s stomach. Hopefully she would swallow it. Hopefully her stomach could cope with it.

The mixture ended up being more milk than banana by the time Yaz was satisfied with it. She took a small spoonful, it didn’t taste bad as such, just very much like what she imagined baby food tasted like. She poured a small helping into a bowl and brought it over. If this didn’t work, she was out of ideas. 

Yaz once again gently prized the Doctor’s mouth open and inserted the syringe. It felt like sacrilege or something, to be forcing her to eat in this way. She aimed the syringe carefully, she needed the mixture to be at the back of the Doctor’s tongue to stimulate the reflex but not so far back she gagged or choked.

With her fingers metaphorically crossed, Yaz squirted a miniscule amount of the mixture into the Doctor’s mouth, she was almost holding her breath she was so anxious and her body was tense as she readied herself to help the Doctor if she began to choke. But she didn’t. Her tongue moved, her mouth closed around the syringe and Yaz saw her throat bobble slightly as she swallowed the banana milk.

Yaz could have cried with relief. It was the smallest of victories and yet it felt like an incredible achievement. But she couldn’t get overexcited yet. She had to repeat the process. And so, over the next two hours Yaz very, very slowly fed the Doctor miniscule amounts of food at a time. Never more than about three millilitres, less than a teaspoonful,l and giving her a break between each try. She was still having to physically open the Doctor’s mouth for her each time, she certainly wasn’t seeking out the food, but she wasn’t rejecting it either.

When the Doctor had eaten about a half of the mixture, what Yaz estimated was about half a banana and a large glass of milk Yaz made the decision to call it a day. Goodness knew how long it had been since the Doctor had eaten and the last thing Yaz wanted was for her to throw up the little she had managed to ingest. Instead, they needed to move onto other problems: a bath and some medical attention.

Leaving the Doctor where she was, Yaz ran a warm bath and laid out some of the towels she had found. Then, thinking through, she covered the bed in towels too because she was probably going to need to lie the Doctor there to dry her, dress her and treat her. It certainly wasn’t likely that she would be doing any of those things herself.

Even though she was pretty certain at this point that the Doctor couldn’t hear her, Yaz carefully explained each step of what she was doing as she gently relieved the Doctor of her jumpsuit. It was like undressing a corpse for all the help she got. Yaz very much doubted that the Doctor had any awareness of what was happening but considering she had never seen the woman in any state of undress before, stripping her like this, while she was unaware, felt horrifically disrespectful. And while Jack said her injuries wouldn’t be life threatening, if she was left in the filthy jumpsuit, they could easily become infected.

Although Yaz had been able to see the Doctor had lost weight through the jumpsuit, when she was relieved of it, just how much was cruelly thrown into light. Every bone was visible through paper thin skin, her stomach was concave and her joints looked too big, like they were going to tear right though. It made Yaz feel sick again. And that was before she took into account of the myriad of injuries littering the Doctor’s body.

Fighting the… Yaz couldn’t even label the feeling but it was bubbling away slowly in her stomach like tar, Yaz carefully gathered the Doctor’s skeletal form into her arms, carried her into the bathroom and lowered her into the water. It was harder than she had been anticipating, holding the Doctor upright while she gently sponged the filth away from her. Just to make it harder she kept having to empty and refill the bath with clean water and when it came to her hair, Yaz knew she had no choice but to sit on the side of the bath and prop the Doctor precariously against her as she washed the greasy tangle as best she could.

Yaz kept up the narration of her actions as she smoothed antiseptic cream over the Doctor’s various injuries, added a few plasters and bandages where she could and then dressed her in the softest, cosiest pyjamas she could find before tucking her up gently under the covers, adding in a hot water bottle at her feet and one on either side.

She was so still and so pale, it almost felt like she was laying her out. Yaz quickly shook that thought away.

“I’m so sorry Doctor. I can't even imagine what you’ve been through but I'm going to take care of you, I promise.” Yaz whispered, pressing a feather light kiss to her hollow cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Smell


	3. Smell

They were about ten days in and there had been no change in the Doctor’s condition. Yaz had continued to feed her through they syringe. It was all pureed baby food, blended down with water or milk but she had changed up the flavours. She really had no idea what she was doing but something told her that if she was trying to stimulate the Doctor’s senses, giving her the same food day after day wouldn’t be helpful.

She checked on the mixture she currently had on the stove, stewed pears with honey and then thinned down with milk to go through the syringe. As she always did, Yaz blended it until it was smooth, added a little more milk so it was warm rather than hot and poured it into a bowl.

The Doctor was in bed, she always was, it wasn’t like she was getting up and going anywhere. The more she cared for her the more Yaz had become aware that the terrible thinness she had now hadn’t just come from losing weight, she had serious muscle wastage as well. She had always been muscular and so well toned, how long had she lain still on the floor for that to happen? Even if Yaz could communicate to her that she wanted her to sit up, she very much doubted that the Doctor would have the strength to do so.

Instead Yaz focused on changing the Doctor’s position in the bed every couple of hours after she had discovered what she was pretty sure was a large pressure sore on the Doctor’s terrifyingly bony hip. She had no training or expertise on caring for someone, the little she did know came from watching her mum and nani care for her grandfather when she had been a young teenager before he had died. That and moving her body the little she dared. She had no idea if it was hurting her or not but her joints were so incredibly stiff, they almost felt like they might snap cleanly in two like a twig if she pushed too hard.

Right now the Doctor was lying on one side, facing the wall. She had a pillow between her bony knees and another supporting her right arm. Yaz eased them out from underneath her and with an arm around the Doctor’s shoulders, mindful of supporting her head and she banked her up with pillows behind her so she was upright enough to be fed. Yaz had hoped she would have started to show some kind of response to the food at this point but she hadn’t. No expectation that it was coming even though Yaz kept food on a regular schedule of every three hours although not during the night in the hope that if the Doctor had any awareness going on in her mind that she might recognise the pattern but there was nothing. It was unbelievably frightening and a truly overwhelming responsibility. She also hadn’t heard from Jack and whatever technology protected the island meant she couldn’t contact anyone else either. It was just the two of them, on their own, and the Doctor was entirely dependent on her just to survive. It was exhausting and sickening.

It was also, Yaz mused as she sat in the chair beside the bed, impossible to tell if she was truly awake. Sure her eyes opened sometimes but they didn’t see and therefore didn’t even track movements so it really was impossible to tell.

As she always did, Yaz gently prized open the Doctor’s mouth and carefully injected the mixture. It always reminded Yaz forcefully of feeding a baby bird. Whether her eyes were open or closed the Doctor always swallowed the mixture without any acknowledgement or sign that it was a conscious decision. But this time… this time something was different. Yaz fed her in exactly the same way that she always did but as she did so, the Doctor screwed up her face. Yaz hesitated to see if there was going to be any further reaction but there wasn’t and she gave the Doctor another mouthful. The second time, not only did the Doctor screw up her face, she also didn’t swallow it, instead opening her mouth further (and voluntarily for the first time) and letting the mixture dribble out again slowly. It was disgusting but Yaz was shaking with excitement as she tried again for the third time. The same thing happened but this time she actively spat the food out.

“Oh Doctor, Yaz said softly. How could I forget that you don’t like pears?” she asked cupping the Doctor’s cheek gently with the palm of her hand.

The Doctor gave no reaction to that but Yaz was ecstatic. The Doctor had had pears on several occasions with no problems and yet this was the first time she had reacted to them.

“I’m going to get you something else.” Yaz told her. If her sense of taste had started to return, did it mean her others had too?

Yaz rummaged in the kitchen for a few minutes and produced some of the strawberry milkshake she had made the Doctor the day before that was in the fridge. The Doctor loved strawberries.

This time when Yaz fed her, the Doctor gulped at the food greedily. She didn’t make any move to seek out the food or acknowledge where it came from but she did open her mouth after each mouthful, actively wanting more. It was such a miniscule act and yet such an enormous triumph.

Over the next few days Yaz discovered that the Doctor’s insatiable sweet tooth had never left her as she started to drink what Yaz prepared through a straw that Yaz would hold to her mouth. Pears were off the menu as were blueberries and anything citrus – Yaz wondered if the latter had too strong a taste for her right now. Strawberry or banana seemed to be her favourite but anything mixed with a little honey seemed to be especially acceptable.

Delighted by their success of getting the Doctor able to taste, Yaz had renewed her efforts in trying to stimulate the Doctor’s other senses. She was still fairly sure the Doctor had no idea who was caring for her, or indeed that anyone _was_ caring for her. All she seemed to know was the straw that Yaz would press to her mouth every few hours.

Yaz spent hours talking to her and had gotten into the habit of making sure she touched her while she did so, a hand on her arm or leg, running her hands up and down the Doctor’s arm, stroking her hair or even just holding her hand. Of course she might as well have been talking to the wall for all the response that she got.

After feeding the Doctor mid-morning Yaz finally got round to having a shower. She was tired and her muscles were starting to protest a little after two weeks sleeping on the sofa and she had turned the water up as hot as she could and took the time to wash her hair twice as well as condition it with her favourite rose scented shampoo. When she stepped out, Yaz stuck her head out of the door to check on the Doctor, she appeared to be okay, and then took the time to moisturise properly with her usual coconut body moisturiser, the freezing cold air off the Atlantic was wreaking havoc with her skin.

When she was dressed Yaz wandered back out into main room and settled herself on the bed beside her friend. She had taken to reading to her from one of the many books that lined the cabins back walls. Yaz had originally been sure that she was in her own time but many of the books were from her future and now she wasn’t sure. She gently clasped the Doctor’s hand with her own, rubbing circles with her thumb as she propped the book open on her lap and started to read.

She had only been reading for a few minutes when she realised the Doctor was sniffing.

Was she crying?... no she didn’t seem to be. Her eyes were dry and the sniffing stopped after a few moments.

Yaz sighed softly, shook her head to make a few stray hairs move from where they were tickling her nose.

The Doctor sniffed again.

What was she doing, Yaz couldn’t be sure. She took a tissue and wiped her nose for her but although doing it felt a bit disgusting, the tissue came away as clean and dry as it had been when it came out of the box.

Yaz went back to reading and the Doctor fell totally still and silent once more beside her.

_It was so… she couldn’t put it into words. Strange, she had never struggled for words. Like living underwater? No, she’d always imagined it would be quite exciting living under water. Living in the vacuum of space? Don’t be ridiculous, there’s so much going on up there, even if you wouldn’t survive. No it was more like… living in a vat of concrete._

_She couldn’t move. She couldn’t see or hear. She couldn’t touch or taste or smell. Sometimes her brain made thoughts, sometimes it didn’t._

_She was dying. She knew that. Or maybe she was already dead._

_Maybe she’d always been dead. Maybe everything that had come before this had been a dream. Or a nightmare._

_Sometimes she existed, sometimes she didn’t. Lately it felt like she had had to exist more regularly. She wasn’t sure she liked that. It was so hard, existing. It was like the times where she had been able to slip away so easily, like they were harder to come by and they seemed to be so much shorter._

_She was so tired. Why couldn’t she just slip away again? It would be so much easier._

_But recently… at least she thought it was recently. She couldn’t really tell anymore. Maybe it was decades ago. Maybe it was a few seconds ago. Maybe last week. Maybe in the future, maybe it hadn’t happened yet. But she’d been tasting pears. Why had she eaten pears? Pears were awful. No one should ever eat pears. Even thinking about it made her feel nauseous. She forced herself to remember the strawberries. They had been good._

_She drifted off again, back into the void._

_But the next time her consciousness took hold it was something different. There was no taste this time. This time it was… what was it called again? Not taste, that was the one that put the thing in her mouth and sometimes was pears. No this time… she sniffed again… smell! That was it, she could smell something. She wasn’t sure what exactly. If she thought about it, if she really really thought about it, it made her think of something but she wasn’t sure what._

_That smell though… it made her think of… safe? Love? Laughing? Family… no not family…fam! That was the word!_

_She sniffed again but the smell was gone._

After half an hour or so, Yaz was getting stiff and she shifted position, choosing to lie down rather than sit. Almost immediately the Doctor started sniffing again. And more than that, she moved, actually moved! Just her head and just a few inches across the pillow before it sank back down again like the tiny act had exhausted her but she had moved by herself… and she was still sniffing.

“What are you doing?” Yaz asked out loud, knowing she wouldn’t get a response.

Yaz rolled onto her side to face the Doctor and the Doctor gave another large inhale, something resembling a smile almost playing with her lips.

“Oh my God” Yaz whispered, stunned. “You can smell my shampoo can't you? You know someone’s here. You know you’re not on your own.”

_There it was again, that smell. What was it? It was right on the tip of her…_

_Tongue?_

_Smart Boy! Biology!_

_No… that wasn’t right._

_PC Khan._

_Name not title._

_Yasmin Khan, Yaz to my friends._

_Yaz!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - Touch


	4. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of hurt, not a lot of comfort yet. There will be comfort.

Yaz was fairly sure the Doctor knew someone was there. She was less sure that the Doctor had any idea who was with her. But she sniffed when she got close and Yaz was making sure to use liberal doses of the shampoo and moisturiser she had always used in the hope that the Doctor would maybe recognise them, even if she just recognised them as familiar and safe smells rather than actually knowing who they belonged to exactly. The Doctor hadn't seen her in what Jack thought was well over a decade, that was a long time to remember the smell of someone's shampoo. Although, Yaz mused sadly, she could have left the Doctor with the open bottle of the shampoo and it probably would have provided her with the same comfort at this point.

Yaz lifted the Doctor carefully onto the bed and dressed her in some clean clothes. She had been in the bath, only the third one in the three weeks they had been on the island. It wasn't like she was doing anything that made her dirty or unclean and Yaz kept the bed sheets clean as well as giving her a quick wash with a facecloth and regular clean pyjamas. But she was terrified of dropping her. She was still disturbingly light, Yaz was strong thanks to her police training but people are heavy, yet she was easily able to lift the Doctor bridal style and carry her without any trouble, the Doctor’s painful looking, swollen joints dangling uselessly, her head tucked under Yaz’s chin.

Yaz very gently stretched and moved the Doctor’s limbs the little that she dared. They were so… delicate and every time Yaz moved her in any way she was terrified she was going to break her. Yaz sighed softly when she noticed that yet another pressure sore had appeared, this time on the Doctor’s shoulder blade. Yaz just didn’t seem to keep them at bay and she gathered the supplies she needed to clean and dress it.

_Pain. It was back again. She hadn’t missed that. The best thing about living in the concrete void was the total absence of anything. She didn’t miss it at all._

_It settled briefly for a moment and she could feel herself drifting back into the empty nothingness._

_But then…_

_It was like having a white hot poker jammed inside her._

_Then it was spreading._

_It was everywhere._

_She could feel everything, a tonne weight crushing her very bones._

_She couldn’t take it any more._

_Make it stop!_

_She started to slip again, and she embraced it._

Yaz nearly fell off the bed in fright when, while cleaning the sore on the Doctor’s shoulder, she, without any warning, opened her mouth and let out the most bloodcurdling scream Yaz had ever heard while the her body stiffened and arched.

Yaz instantly stopped what she was doing, stood up and backed away in dear. Almost as soon as she did so the Doctor stopped screaming. Her body relaxed a little although not entirely, but her face was still contorted in agony.

She was in pain. A lot of it by the looks of things.

And Yaz had caused it.

The thought made her want to be sick.

Yaz had never seen her in pain before. Or at least not like this. After Tsuranga when her ectospleen (whatever the hell that was) had been resettling she hadn’t emitted any more than a few pained grunts.

Yaz was frightened. Up to now she had consoled herself that, despite everything else, the Doctor hadn’t appeared to be in pain. And now that definitely wasn’t true.

But a pain response, however terrible it was to witness and however infinitely worse it presumably was for the Doctor to experience, was a response none the less.

Yaz dithered, not sure what to do for the best as the Doctor quietened. She couldn’t not deal with the sore, but she couldn’t put the Doctor through that again. Especially when she couldn’t explain to her why.

Far from confident in her decision, Yaz sat down beside the Doctor again and very tentatively reached out, touching her shoulder. When the Doctor didn’t complain, Yaz hesitantly started to clean the sore again but this time the Doctor didn’t flinch.

She was gone again.

A few days later, Yaz was starting to wonder if she had imagined the whole incident. The Doctor hadn’t had any further reactions to anything. She accepted the straw that Yaz continued to put in her mouth multiple times a day. Sometimes it seemed like she was inhaling the scent of Yaz’s shampoo again. But mostly, she was just utterly silent and still.

Yaz sighed softly and as she always did, pressed a gentle kiss to the Doctor’s forehead before making sure she was tucked in safely and settling herself in on the sofa. Lulled by the howling wind outside and the cosy crackling of the flames, Yaz was soon asleep, the blankets tucked up under her chin just the way she liked them.

_Fire._

_Burning._

_Again._

_Why?_

_It was tearing at her skin._

_Get it off!_

Yaz woke with a start. For a moment she was totally disoriented. What was that sound?

With a start, she realised it was the Doctor.

And she was screaming again.

Yaz vaulted out of bed and hurried across to the Doctor. She was clawing viciously at her clothes like they were burning her.

“Hey, stop, stop.” Yaz shouted, momentarily forgetting that the Doctor couldn’t hear her, and grabbing the Doctor’s wrists to stop the her from hurting herself.

That turned out to be a bad move as the Doctor completely flipped out, hitting Yaz on the shoulder in the process, although that was almost certainly accidental, and pulling at her clothes even more until she had disregarded them entirely. Even then she didn’t seem satisfied as she tore at her skin.

Worried about scaring her again, Yaz cautiously moved closer to the Doctor. She wasn’t screaming anymore but she was distressed and Yaz slowly reached out again, this time until her fingertips just brushed the Doctor’s. The Doctor froze.

“It’s me Doctor, I wish I could talk to you.” Yaz pleaded.

_Something was… she wasn’t sure what was it was. It was… she didn’t like it. Or at least she wasn’t sure if she didn’t like it. It was so strange._

_Was something… feeling her? No… that wasn’t the right word. Touch._

_Something was touching her._

_Touching her fingers._

_It was like a jolt of electricity surging through her body._

_On top of everything else, it was just so much._

_She wanted to move but the concrete wouldn’t let her._

The Doctor cried out again. The sound felt like it was stabbing Yaz in the guts.

“You’re okay Doctor, you’re safe here, I promise.” Yaz whispered to her.

She carefully took the whole of the Doctor’s hand and something instinctive guided her to hold it firmly rather than a light touch.

The Doctor stiffened. Or at least as much as her weakened state would allow her to, but she made no attempt to move away.

She seemed to settle slightly.

Holding her hand tightly, Yaz had a sudden brainwave. It was impossible to tell what or even how much was going on in the Doctor’s brain right now but maybe, if she could feel, there was a way to communicate with her.

Yaz gently turned the Doctor’s hand over so it was palm side up, she didn’t resist, and lightly pulled her fingers out straight. With her other hand Yaz slowly drew the letters Y – A – Z on the Doctor’s hand.

She didn’t react and, but not so easily swayed, Yaz tried again. And then a third time. And a fourth, fifth and sixth..

And that was when it happened.

_That touch. It was like it was occupying her entire being, shooting bolts of electricity up her arm and through her body._

_But then the touch changed._

_It wasn’t electricity… it was like pressure. But different to the concrete pressure that was everywhere like she was being crushed. More like… squeezing. Like a python smothering it’s prey._

_Only it didn’t feel smothering._

_It felt… was it… nice?_

_She wasn’t sure._

_What was happening?_

_It was so confusing._

_Make it stop._

_But then it changed again. Something was… stroking? rubbing? petting?_

_Whatever the word was._

_She could feel her brain itching. Like it knew what was happening, but she didn’t know._

_Why was it so strange?_

_Why couldn’t she just rest?_

_Why wouldn’t they just let her die in peace?_

_Then the… thing she still couldn’t name happened again. It was always the same. Why was it so familiar? Why did she know what it meant? Why didn’t she know what it meant?_

_Maybe the concrete was in her head too._

_She forced her concrete head to think about it._

_Then… that word again._

_Yaz._

_Yaz…_

_No, that wasn’t right._

_Live Great Lives_

_Who was Yaz?_

_Yaz._

_Through the concrete, she forced her hand to move, squeeze it back._

_Because even though Yaz couldn’t be there, the thought still made her concrete brain feel calm._

The Doctor grabbed Yaz’s hand and Yaz couldn’t hold back a small sob.

Whether or not the Doctor had understood her message Yaz couldn’t tell. But she knew someone was there and judging by the death grip the Doctor now had on her hand, she knew it was someone who was on her side.

The next few days were as overwhelming as their first together on the island.

The Doctor was definitely spending more time awake.

But Yaz wasn’t convinced that that was a good thing. She seemingly had little understanding of the concept of night vs day and would ‘waken’ at any point, sometimes for just a few minutes, others for hours at a time.

Yaz was learning though, that being alert meant also being aware of pain and she often cried. She had attempted to communicate with her through her hand but invariably the Doctor would get frustrated, shoving Yaz’s hand away from her with an unintelligible shout.

Whether it was because she didn’t understand but wanted to or because she didn’t like the feeling of it Yaz didn’t know.

It hadn’t escaped Yaz’s notice that the Doctor hadn’t uttered a single word. Some shouts and cries, maybe a groan, were as vocal as she got.

Yaz was also learning through trial and error how the Doctor was perceiving the world around her. Now she sometimes seemed to be aware of her sense of touch, she seemed to be suffering from what Yaz could only assume was major sensory overload. She couldn’t bare most clothes, couldn’t stand the feeling of blankets touching her skin. It seemed to be lighter touches that she struggled with though. Yaz had discovered that she would tolerate blankets if she was basically swaddled in them. She would tolerate touch from Yaz if she squeezed tightly. In fact, she seemed to crave that touch. When she would become aware, her hand would flail around as she desperately sought that comfort and reassurance and she would cry out until Yaz took hold of it and squeezed. If she tried to move away, the Doctor held tighter and cried. It was so painful to watch. But it had, in some small way, opened their lines of communication.

_Why won’t it stop?_

_That inescapable touch._

_The other touches went away sometimes._

_Always on her back. Moving. Tickling. Itching. Prickling. Irritating._

_She didn’t know what it was, she was sure she had never felt anything like it before._

_When Yaz was there she made lots of the touches go away. She made the concrete head feel light._

_But she never made this one go away._

_She tried to make it go away but all she did was anger it._

_It was getting worse._

_More and more intolerable every time._

_She wanted to slip away to make it stop but she couldn’t._

“What are you doing Doctor?” Yaz begged, she was holding the Doctor’s hand tightly like she always did but the Doctor kept fidgeting and squirming. It was good to see her move, even if it was only a little and even if she was clearly uncomfortable. But at least she still could.

She kept moving her head, kept rubbing her back against the wall or the blankets and then moving her head again.

It clicked.

“It’s your hair isn’t it?” Yaz realised suddenly. “You don’t like having long hair. You said you’d always been a man before, I bet you never had hair like this.”

It was true, the Doctor’s hair was down past her waist. Presumably, that’s what happened when you went for more than a decade without a haircut. It was also, like the rest of her, in terrible condition. Dry, brittle, split ends. If it was tickling her, Yaz could imagine it was slowly driving her insane.

She debated. She usually refrained from moving the Doctor when she was awake because she had to let go of her hand which she never liked but also because it seemed to cause her pain and if she could skip that then of course she was going to. But if she could provide her with some relief…

There was a decent pair of scissors in the first aid kit and Yaz fished them out. They should do, their blades gleamed in the light of the fireplace, they looked lethally sharp.

Yaz was as gentle as she could be while she eased the Doctor into a sitting position, pulling the Doctor’s hair away from her body. Instantly, she seemed slightly calmer and Yaz knew she was making the right decision. She pulled at her hair until it was in a ponytail and then, without ceremony, took the scissors to it, hacking it off with one movement and she threw the whole lot into the bin.

It was a terrible haircut Yaz mused but anything better could wait until Yaz could explain what was happening to her. And the Doctor didn’t seem to care. She was still awake but she seemed more relaxed than she had in days and when she reached out her hand for comfort, it was a calm movement. Yaz took hold of it, carefully settling on the bed beside her.

“I’ve got you Doctor.” She whispered.

_The concrete void tilted. She didn’t like it. It wasn’t supposed to tilt. It was…_

_It stopped._

_The inescapable touch came back and then stopped and then came back and then stopped again but…_

_It didn’t come again._

_She moved her head._

_It wasn’t there._

_It felt so light._

_The concrete felt a little less heavy now._

_It was a little less like she was drowning._

_She didn’t even know what was happening any more. Was she still in prison? Or was this death? Somewhere in between? Who knew? At least Yaz was there._

__Was Yaz still there?_ _

_She knew she should be trying to curb her imagination. It wasn’t good for her. Yaz was safe, on Earth, protecting the people of Sheffield. Right where she should be._

_But it was so nice to pretend she was there holding her hand._

_She could pretend for a little longer couldn’t she?_

_A little longer wouldn’t hurt?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up: Hearing


	5. Hearing

Bundled up warm against the cold, Yaz walked along the beach, allowing the icy wind to whip her hair around her face and breathing in the salty tang. She had started to make time for herself just to walk every day, to stop herself from going mad. She had been in the house for about two months by her best estimate though it was difficult to tell for sure.

Jack had told them that the protections around the island made it exist outside of time, when she returned home, no time would have passed and she wouldn't have aged, but it was an increasingly strange place to be. Lonely and beautiful it may have been but Yaz was also aware of something else that she couldn't put her finger on, something familiar.

Yaz completed her circuit of the island, it was about two, maybe three miles all the way around and she made her way back to where their little cottage rested on the hill and let herself in where she immediately banked up the fire with a little more wood and hung up the wraps she had been bundled in.

The Doctor, unsurprisingly, was exactly as Yaz had left her. She was in bed in a semi upright position, banked with pillows which supported her entirely. Her knees were also propped up with pillows and her arms were further supported with yet more pillows, she had at least twelve of them, and she was swaddled in a thick blanket which was the only way she could tolerate things next to her skin. She appeared to still be asleep, she was calm and quiet anyway and Yaz busied herself in the kitchen, making them something to eat. 

The house always seemed to provide exactly what they needed, almost like magic though Yaz knew that more likely it was some sort of future technology, and she lifted fish out of the fridge and started to prepare it. Her aim was to try, for the first time, to get the Doctor to eat a little solid food from a spoon. She had started with what had essentially been milkshakes that Yaz had basically poured down her throat with a syringe before moving on to what amounted to baby food that she could suck through a straw. But she didn't seem to have put on any weight at all. She still looked like she was about to die of starvation or malnutrition and so Yaz was hopeful that something a little more solid in her stomach would help her put on a little weight. 

Yaz had the fish baking in the oven when the Doctor woke up again. Yaz always knew she was awake because she would almost inevitably cry or make some other noises of distress. Yaz felt for her, she had no idea where she was or what was happening to her and Yaz had no way of communicating with her. She seemed to be in a lot of pain when she was awake. She must be so frightened. 

Yaz ran over to the bed and took the Doctor's hand tightly, reassuring her that she wasn't alone. It was pretty much the only comfort she could provide her friend with and it wasn't much. As always, the Doctor latched on, clinging to Yaz like a lifeline. She seemed to be in more pain than normal, she was shaking all over and kept emitting small squeaks of distress. Yaz reached out and smoothed her sweaty hair away from her face. To her great surprise, the Doctor leaned into the touch rather than crying away from it like she usually did and Yaz kept up the movements, gently carding her fingers through the Doctor's hair. It was impossible to tell if the Doctor enjoyed the contact, she wasn't complaining, in the absence of words she could certainly be vocal when she wasn't happy, but that didn't mean she was happy either. 

The Doctor only managed to sustain her awareness for about twenty minutes. Yaz never knew what to call it, she wasn't sure it could be described as consciousness or awareness because she wasn't really either. She was awake, but then when she wasn't, she didn't seem to be sleeping, more unconscious. It was confusing. 

Satisfied that the Doctor was unconscious once again, Yaz went back to making dinner for them both. It was a mindless task that allowed her to process some of the information she had been reading up on to try and help the Doctor. Books had appeared one day while she was in the shower on the coffee table in front of the sofa she slept on and Yaz had been reading them whenever she had the opportunity. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to cover the Doctor's actual condition, the only mention she found of Time Lord's anywhere claimed that they were all dead so she probably wasn't going to find any help that was specific to her species but they did cover physiotherapy, sensory issues and there was even one about the Judoon prison she had been in. That one had been grim reading and Yaz was still struggling to force herself to read it. The more she read the worse she felt and that was just reading about it. The fact that the Doctor had actually lived through it... it didn't bare thinking about.

Yaz lifted their dinner out of the oven and ate her own. She couldn't really eat at the same time as the Doctor yet, not when she needed to be fed and besides, she was hungry and the Doctor might be awake in five minutes or it might be in five hours. Yaz had been keeping a careful record but there was no set pattern yet. 

Yaz ate, the fish was nice, but she was forcing herself to read a little more about the Judoon prison, it was horrific and made her feel sick. When she had eaten Yaz did the dishes and started to put them away. But then she tripped and managed to drop the cast iron pot on the stone floor with a horrific clang, loud enough to raise the dead. 

It almost did.

Because the Doctor woke with a petrified scream.

Could she... had she heard that?

Or was it a coincidence?

_The void was so quiet, so peaceful, so... nothing._

_She didn't have to think or feel._

_There was no pain or sadness._

_There was no existing._

_It was just nothing._

_Until it wasn't._

_There was the most tremendous assault to her senses._

_What even was it?_

_She didn't like it._

_It hurt._

_Why wouldn't everything just stop?_

_She was so tired._

_She just wanted it to be over._

_Dying wasn't supposed to be this hard._

"Doctor?" Yaz asked loudly and clearly. "Doctor can you hear me?"

She didn't respond. 

"Doctor, it's Yaz. I know you're frightened and confused but you're safe here." Yaz told her. 

The Doctor was holding Yaz's hand tightly. It was hard to tell if she could hear or not, she looked confused and frightened which she might if she suddenly started being able to hear after months or potentially years of not being able to... but equally she often looked like that when she was awake.

"I don't know if you can hear me Doctor. But it's Yaz. I'm here with you and you're safe, I promise."

She still didn't respond.

"I'm holding your hand Doctor. No one will hurt you, I promise."

_The assault kept coming. She didn't know what it was. It wasn't as bad as when it started but it wasn't good._

_It hurt but it wasn't painful._

_It was just too much._

_It was too... noise... noisy. Loud. Ears._

_She didn't know what the noise was._

_She should._

_Her concrete brain was itching with recognition, but it wasn't hitting home, whatever it was._

_She was slipping again._

_She didn't want to. What was it?_

_Then the itching stopped._

_She was gone._

The Doctor passed out again a few minutes later. Yaz could almost see the curtain fall again as her eyes shut heavily and she relaxed into sleep. Yaz waited a few minutes to make sure she was definitely out before adjusting her position in the bed, rolling her onto one side, and once again, banking her with pillows. 

The next time the Doctor woke was several hours later. This time she gave no indication that she could hear anything though Yaz chatted to her as she reheated the fish from earlier. It was the first time, apart from her first day, that she had attempted to give the Doctor anything from a spoon and she carefully nudged the spoon between her lips. For a moment, she did nothing but then she managed to open her mouth and take the food. The first few mouthfuls were uneventful aside from the tremendous progress that it represented but after four mouthfuls, she gagged.

Yaz grabbed her by the shoulders and leaned her forward, thumping her on the back as she choked. The Doctor was gasping for breath, tears streaming involuntarily down her face as she coughed and spluttered. Suddenly she vomited violently once, she didn't have much in her system, but it went all over her, all over Yaz and all over the bed.

"It's okay, you're okay, you're safe." Yaz soothed, rubbing her back. She was shaking violently and Yaz pulled her in close, hugging her in a tight bear hug. It wasn't like she was going to get any more messy and disgusting. 

She kept speaking reassurances in the Doctor's ear but she didn't react at all. Whether or not she had been able to hear earlier in the day, she certainly didn't seem to be able to now and when she finally calmed, Yaz carried her into the bathroom to clean her up. Which turned out to be another bad idea as she struggled with a complete sensory overload and became more and more distressed. 

_It was there again._

_The itching._

_The noise._

_She knew that noise._

_Why couldn't she remember it?_

_You're like the best person I've ever met._

_Why did she know it?_

_Don't go._

_Yaz was on her mind again._

_Yaz was always on her mind._

_The noise, was it Yaz?_

_She wasn't sure. Could be anything._

_But it would be so nice if it was Yaz._

_Only, she couldn't understand the noise._

_And Yaz wasn’t there anyway._

_It was like the noise was swirling around in her brain, but not quite sticking the landing._

Yaz was getting on with a couple of jobs, absently singing along to the radio that had appeared a few days previously which seemed to play an awful lot of music that Yaz enjoyed but not necessarily music that she had heard of. Right now though, it was on a bit of a Coldplay kick, currently playing Yellow. Yaz remembered the Doctor had liked this song, she had often hummed it while she was tinkering with the TARDIS. 

At first, Yaz thought she had imagined the noise. She spun round when heard it, but nothing seemed amiss and she got back to what she was doing. 

But then she heard it again.

"Doctor?" Yaz asked loudly.

Was it her imagination or did the Doctor give a miniscule turn of her head at the noise?

The Doctor was propped half on her side, half on her back facing into the room and Yaz crouched down beside her.

"Doctor, it's Yaz, can you hear me?"

The Doctor's head gave a tiny jerk.

Yaz took hold of her hand. 

"Can you squeeze my hand Doctor?"

The Doctor responded to the sound but not the command. The same thing happened when Yaz asked her to blink.

"That's okay Doctor. I think... I think you can hear me, but either you can't understand me yet or you can't hear me clearly. That's okay because you're safe here and I'm looking after you." Yaz reassured her, hoping that even if the Doctor didn’t understand what was being said to her that she would at least be comforted by the voice.

Her awareness didn’t last long and before she knew it, Yaz found herself tucking the Doctor back into bed.

It was baby steps, but at least they were forward baby steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up - Sight


	6. Sight

If there was one thing that had been clear since the Doctor had started to regain some of her senses, her hearing and touch in particular, was that sensory overload was a massive problem for her. And if Yaz had expected to be able to communicate with her when she could hear, she had been very much let down on that front. The Doctor didn’t seem to have the ability to speak and she wasn’t responding to simple commands, whether that was because she didn’t understand or because she couldn’t hear well enough, Yaz wasn’t sure. Either way, she spent her time where she was awake confused, disoriented and distressed while Yaz could do little to comfort her.

She couldn’t tolerate a hug or music playing or sometimes not even Yaz talking to her. Sometimes she managed a hand hold but others not even that. And Yaz talking to her often made her cry. Yaz wasn’t sure if that was part of the sensory overload or because she couldn’t understand what Yaz was saying. It was so painful to watch her in so much pain and be totally powerless to help her.

And then there was also the matter of her heart. While she could clearly exist when only one was working, it couldn’t possibly be good for her. It’s not like one was a spare part just in case, she did actually need them both. Yaz couldn’t help but wonder if the Doctor would be doing a whole lot better if she had a fully functional circulatory and respiratory system. She had toyed with the idea of attempting CPR but she remembered from her training at work that CPR wouldn’t actually start a heart that had stopped. Or at least it wouldn’t in a human. And when the Doctor woke up, assuming she ever did, she would know what to do.

Yaz gently wiped her down with a warm, damp facecloth and dressed her in a clean pair of pyjamas. She hated doing it. Not because she begrudged the Doctor the care she so desperately needed in any way or because she was embarrassed. No, it was because it highlighted how incredibly sick she was. The injuries that had marred her skin when she arrived had finally healed but her skin was now littered with scars and damage of various shapes and sizes. Deep welts where she had clearly been restrained for long periods of time in cuffs so tight it was a miracle she hadn’t lost a hand or a foot. Marks from where it appeared that she may have been tortured. Her bones were still poking through and no matter how many times she saw it, Yaz would never get used to how dreadfully thin she was.

When the Doctor was clean and dressed Yaz started to try and move her a little. Emboldened a little by the numerous books on the subject, Yaz had become a little more confident in trying some physiotherapy with her to stop her limbs completely freezing up. Yaz was concerned it might already be too late in that respect, she was so incredibly stiff, her joints were still bulbous and swollen while she seemed to have little to no muscle tone anywhere. Even when she was awake, she was almost completely still, when she was unconscious she looked dead. Yaz would only attempt it when she was unconscious, for the simple reason that she knew it would put the Doctor in far too much pain if she was aware of what was happening.

Going off the look of her though, Yaz was pretty sure that the Doctor wouldn’t be able to raise a spoon to her lips right now, let alone sit, stand or walk. She was a bag of bones, held together with tissue paper skin that was so pale it was almost translucent.

She always started with her legs, gently pulling and pushing her feet, bending and stretching her knees and rotating her hips before doing the same for her hands and arms. Yaz had finished her left leg and was just moving onto her right when the Doctor woke up. She was supporting the Doctor’s leg under her knee with one hand and bending her foot with the other. The Doctor clearly didn’t like it as she appeared to wake with a start, instantly screaming and struggling weakly at where Yaz was holding her. Yaz immediately stopped what she was doing, laying the Doctor’s leg down gently on the bed.

“Ssshhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Yaz soothed. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ve stopped.”

But the Doctor still wasn’t happy. Something was bothering her. Her face was screwed up and her eyes were streaming with tears.

“You’re okay, you’re safe.” Yaz continued. Her heart always bled for the Doctor when she was like this. She was in so much pain and so utterly bewildered by what was happening around her.

_They were grabbing her again._

_It was supposed to have stopped._

_Please make it stop._

_I don’t like it._

_Stop._

_And her face._

_It was burning._

_Why was it burning._

_Where was the dark?_

_She liked the dark._

_The not dark hurt too much._

_Make it stop!_

_And the noise._

_Someone somewhere was screaming._

_Stop screaming!_

Yaz tried everything she had to try and get the Doctor to calm again. She was unusually distressed, and when she cried, her eyes were streaming with tears which they hadn’t been doing up until this point. She cried so much she ended up making herself sick but every time Yaz went near her to try and calm her down or clean her up she started screaming and getting agitated.

She didn’t know what to do.

It felt like it was going on for hours. Perhaps it did. Time didn’t seem to flow properly on the island. There was night and day but it was very hard to keep track of how many of them there had been.

“I’m sorry Doctor, I wish I could help you.” Yaz whispered quietly, not wanting to upset her even more. “I wish I could make you feel better but I'm doing everything I know how. If you need more you’re going to have to tell me. I just wish we could communicate.”

Something Yaz had noticed was that the Doctor’s senses didn’t necessarily seem to be ‘online’ all the time. Sometimes she was incredibly upset by sound, other times it didn’t bother her. Sometimes she didn’t react as Yaz held her, others she couldn’t stand for Yaz to be anywhere near her. It was like they came and went. It was bizarre.

What was also bizarre was the Doctor’s behaviour over the next few days. Sometimes when she woke up she was as she always was, waking with a cry but Yaz was able to comfort her, but other times she was utterly inconsolable. Yaz wasn’t sure what was causing her so much distress, was she in more pain? Was it mental rather than physical? God knew she would be entitled to it after everything she had been through. It was the incessant crying, and although it was soundless, it was deeply unsettling to Yaz. Something didn’t feel right. She was missing something.

Yaz had been making meticulous notes since she had got to the island and after spending four hours trying to settle the Doctor that evening, she sat down with them again to look. To figure out what she had been missing over the last few days.

It didn’t take Yaz long to spot a pattern.

She was significantly calmer when she woke during the night. But during the day she was inconsolable. So what did that mean?

Yaz didn’t have time to figure it out because a few minutes later, the Doctor was awake, and she was screaming. Fear? Pain? Terror? Something else? Yaz didn’t know. But Yaz wasn’t able to calm her, she tried for nearly forty minutes before the Doctor seemed to slip away again.

“What can’t you tell me Doctor?” Yaz asked, smoothing her hair away from her face. “What’s making you so upset?”

Yaz kissed her goodnight on her cheek like she always did before switching off the light and settling on the sofa.

Something was nagging her.

She sat bolt upright.

Switching off the lights.

The Doctor’s eyes streaming.

She could see.

Or at least… she had light perception. Like how a baby could see light and dark when they were first born before they were able to see distinctive shapes and figures.

_Why wouldn’t it stop. It felt relentless._

_It was so hard to slip away now._

_It used to be so easy._

_The not dark… it wasn’t seeing. She couldn’t see._

_But there was light._

_So much light._

_It hurt._

_It really, really hurt._

_She didn’t even want to see._

_Her cell._

_She could see it perfectly well in her mind._

_If she could see she would have to see that Yaz wasn’t really there._

_She didn’t need to know that._

_And the relentless screaming…_

_Why wouldn’t it stop._

“Doctor, please. It’s Yaz. I'm here, you’re safe. I promise you’re safe.” Yaz was pleading with her, now in tears herself as the Doctor screamed on the bed.

Yaz decided to try a different tactic. The Doctor did not seem to enjoy touch and Yaz had been respecting that but desperate times and all that. If Yaz couldn’t go on anymore, then the Doctor certainly couldn’t.

The room was dim, lit only by the warm glow of the fireplace but even that seemed to be too much for the Doctor’s eyes which were still streaming but Yaz wasn’t putting it out, the cottage got cold fast.

Yaz picked up the heaviest blanket they had and wrapped it tightly around the Doctor and climbed in beside her, wrapping her arms and legs around her in a tight bear hug.

The Doctor struggled weakly for a few moments but as Yaz settled beside her she finally seemed to calm.

Yaz gently pulled her head in a little closer so the Doctor’s face was tucked under her chin, blocking out the light from the fireplace.

_No!_

_Not again!_

_Get off me!_

_I don’t know what you want!_

_Don’t hurt me!_

_Get away!_

_They were coming to get her again._

_It was going to happen again._

_She didn’t know what they wanted._

_She didn’t even know why she was here._

_They were going to hurt her._

_She could feel them getting closer._

_They were touching her._

_Get away!_

_But…_

_That wasn’t right._

_It didn’t feel like a Judoon._

_It was… soft? Maybe? She wasn’t sure. It was so long since she had touched something soft._

_She sniffed._

_That smell again._

_It reminded her of Yaz. If she really concentrated, she could pretend she was being held by Yaz._

_She stopped fighting and leaned into it._

_She had decided that she didn’t care if allowing her mind to hallucinate was probably a bad idea._

_She just wanted it to be true._

_How nice it would be if Yaz was there._

_If she could be with her just one more time._

Over the next few weeks, Yaz did everything she could to keep stimulation in the cottage as limited as possible to help the Doctor remain calm, she seemed to be awake for longer periods of time now though she didn’t seem any more lucid.

She kept the curtains shut during the day, she kept the radio off when the Doctor was awake, and she spent hours holding her tightly. Some days it was working, others less so.

It was on one of her calmer days, when Yaz had just fed her some custard from a spoon that it happened.

The Doctor’s eyes were leaking tears the way they always did in reaction to the light but something was different about them. Were they… were they tracking her?

_The light had shifted._

_It was strange._

_It still hurt._

_But it wasn’t just light anymore. There was dark too._

_She squinted, wincing at the discomfort that it caused her._

_There were light bits and dark bits._

_Was she seeing?_

_Could she see?_

_But this wasn’t her cell._

_Her cell would be all dark bits._

_Wait… one of the dark bits moved._

_Was that..?_

_Nothing in her cell could move._

_Not even her._

_She tried to reach out._

_She needed to touch it._

_But it was like moving through concrete._

Yaz watched as the Doctor blinked and squinted.

Was she… could she see?

The Doctor very slowly and uncertainly raised her hand. It was trembling and she didn’t seem to be able to move it far.

Yaz very carefully caught her wrist and raised it so the Doctor’s hand brushed against her cheek.

The Doctor gave a small, sharp intake of breath, her fingers curling up before she reached out again.

“It’s me Doctor, it’s Yaz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up - Telepathy


	7. Telepathy

They had been on the island, by Yaz’s best estimate, for about three months. Weirdly, it was a very calming place and despite all she was going through with the Doctor she didn’t feel lonely or afraid. It was like there was something in her mind helping her along, nudging her to make the right decisions. It was… comforting.

The sun had just come up, the Doctor had slept through which was a nice change and Yaz took the opportunity while she was still asleep to give her a quick wash and dress her in clean pyjamas. She was finally in some sort of routine and seemed to have registered the difference between night and day. Whether it was because she was just more used to it now or because she definitely seemed to have some light perception even if she couldn’t see or because she was generally more lucid, Yaz didn’t know. It was impossible to say. She still didn’t really communicate much other than when she was unhappy, then she would cry or scream or make small, gut-wrenching noise of distress that nearly set Yaz off crying.

Overall though, she was a good deal calmer and when she woke up that morning she wasn’t upset and seemed content to lie there while Yaz made them both porridge. Although she had persisted with the Doctor eating more solid food even after the incident where she had choked, she hadn’t tried to get the Doctor to feed herself. She was more aware of food, she seemed to be able to smell when it was coming now and anticipated the regular meal schedule Yaz had going on but she just accepted the food as it was given to her and ate everything she was given apart from pears. Yaz was fairly sure that the Doctor still had no idea she wasn’t in prison. Although she seemed a little more aware, she wasn’t any more lucid. Yaz dreaded to think what state her mind was in. None of the indicators were good.

With a small bowl of sweetened porridge in hand, Yaz made sure that the Doctor was stably banked up with cushions.

“It’s another beautiful day here. Freezing cold of course, doesn’t seem to be any other temperature here. Remind me to never move to Scotland full time…” she wiped the Doctor’s mouth where she had lost some of the porridge. “But even though it’s cold the sun is shining . I think you’d like it here probably even you couldn’t find trouble here…”

Yaz always chatted to her softly while she was with her. At first the Doctor hadn’t been able to tolerate the noise. Then she had managed to cope with it. Now it almost seemed like she liked it. Yaz was very careful to watch her tone. She was reasonably sure the Doctor couldn’t understand what she was saying but even if she could only hear a little, the tone of Yaz’s voice would make an impression. She kept it light, relaxed and above all else, calm.

“You’ve put a little weight on I think.” Yaz continued. “And I think I’m getting a little better at being a physiotherapist though you’re still pretty stiff. Hopefully we can get you up soon, that’ll help I think.”

The Doctor finished the last mouthful of porridge and Yaz put the empty bowl down. She reached out and went to gently move a strand of hair out of the Doctor’s face.

The Doctor reacted strongly, pulling her head away from where Yaz had touched her and losing her balance and landing slumped across the mattress uncomfortably where she struggled weakly to move.

“Hey it’s okay, I’m sorry if I scared you.” Yaz told her. The Doctor was usually less jumpy now but then again Yaz didn’t touch her face much though she hadn’t seemed frightened or distressed by the touch as such.

“I’m going to move you so you’re more comfortable Doctor.” Yaz explained, holding the Doctor’s arms and raising her into a sitting position. She didn’t react but when Yaz moved her hand to support the Doctor’s head, her body arched and she let out a panicked sounding cry.

“What’s the matter?” Yaz asked, laying her down gently on the pillows, knowing she wouldn’t get an answer. As soon as she was free from Yaz’s touch she calmed a little again.

Experimentally, Yaz placed a light hand on the Doctor’s arm over her pyjamas… nothing. But when she touched the Doctor’s hand she jumped again, yanking it away as hard as she could, the same look of utter panic on her face.

_What was that?_

_It wasn’t unpleasant._

_But she didn’t like it._

_It didn’t feel right._

_It came out of nowhere, like a flash of lightening or the first plunge into an icy lake._

_Get away!_

_It stopped._

_Relief._

_She’s… is she moving?_

_Her neck hurts._

_Then…_

_The flash again._

_Only it went on longer this time._

_Stop!_

_Please!_

_Please stop!_

_Then as soon as it started it stopped._

_But the flash wasn’t done tormenting her._

_It happened again._

Yaz was confused. The Doctor had had very strong reactions to touch in the past and sometimes still did. But they had always caused her very vocal distress and she didn’t seem to be distressed, she certainly wasn’t quiet when she didn’t like something. Plus she only seemed to be bothered when Yaz touched her bare skin…

Yaz didn’t want to torture her but she needed to know. She reached under the blankets and touched the Doctor’s pyjama clad leg and then her bare foot. This time she let out a pained whimper as soon as Yaz’s fingertips brushed against her toes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise.” Yaz apologised.

Careful not to touch her skin, Yaz adjusted her so she was in a more comfortable position in the bed and pulled the blankets up round her. Even by her standards, she always seemed so cold, even though the cottage was warm and cosy.

The Doctor soon fell into a doze and Yaz took the opportunity to leave her and take a walk before she made the lunch. Her daily excursions around the island gave her time to plan and think and process and even though the Doctor was awake more, she still napped mid-morning and mid-afternoon which gave Yaz some much needed respite.

The Doctor woke again just as Yaz was finishing making the lunch, but she wasn’t calm this time. She was clutching her head and groaning brokenly. Yaz rushed over and as she did, the Doctor let out a loud scream.

“Wow, you’re okay Doctor. You’re safe. You’re okay.” Yaz tried to soothe her but internally she was in a panic, a look that was very much mirrored on the Doctor’s face.

Yaz forced herself to calm down and took a few deep breaths, she would be of no help to her friend if she was in a state too.

“Doctor you’re in the cottage in Scotland. It’s Yaz, I’m here with you and you’re safe. I know you’re scared and confused right now but I’m taking care of you, I won’t leave you.” Yaz soothed.

It didn’t work, not that that was surprising, and Yaz reached out to take her hand which had about a 50/50 success rate for calming her.

It did not.

Her groan turned into a scream and Yaz instantly backed off. But then to her surprise, the Doctor’s hand was waving in the air… was she seeking her out?

Yaz reached for her again, it was so hard to guess what she was trying to communicate.

The Doctor latched onto her hand tightly and then, to Yaz’s utter amazement, grabbed at her with the other hand.

All of a sudden, Yaz’s body was flooded with emotions that weren’t hers, pain, fear, panic, confusion…

_Her head._

_It ached…_

_There was a noise._

_The talking that wasn’t talking._

_Or at least, she couldn’t understand it._

_And then… that flash._

_Stronger this time._

_It dimmed but didn’t stop and then, without warning, it was stronger than ever._

_She gasped._

_Emotions that weren’t hers._

_So many thoughts and feelings._

_She screamed and instantly it dissipated._

_She missed it._

_Come back!_

_Who are you?_

_It came._

_She tried to force concrete brain to think._

_To process the onslaught._

_She was sure she used to be good at this._

_Memories that weren’t hers, but were familiar nonetheless._

_Feelings. Worry, concern, love._

_Calm. Or at least trying to be._

_PC Khan was always calm._

_That was Yaz’s head._

_She’d been here before._

_A vague memory of Yaz crying in pain with a migraine._

_Of herself soothing her into a pain free sleep._

_Bit she knew the limits of her telepathy._

_If she was connecting to Yaz, no matter how weakly…_

_Yaz._

_Yaz was here._

_She wasn’t imagining it._

_But how was she here?_

_She was so confused._

_Her brain hurt._

_How was Yaz here?_

_Was she in prison too?_

Yaz could almost feel the cogs of her brain trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Of course! The Doctor was telepathic wasn’t she? She had been able to connect with Shelley, she had told them she had been able to wipe the minds of Noor and Ada, she had managed to block the pain of a migraine by projecting something nice into her head… was the Doctor reading her mind?

Yaz concentrated on thinking about who she was and where they were, forcing herself to remain in control of her emotions. The Doctor was clutching her arms so tightly it was almost painful and Yaz sat down next to her on the bed. She peeled the Doctor’s hands away from her arms and placed one on her leg to keep the connection and took hold of the Doctor’s other hand, palm up where she spelled out her name again, trying to get across to the Doctor that she wasn’t alone.

Yaz almost held her breath as the Doctor pulled her hand away from where Yaz was holding it. She reached out very tentatively, like she still didn’t believe what her very limited senses were telling her, what Yaz had been desperately trying to communicate to her, until her hand collided with Yaz’s stomach. She wasn’t particularly gentle as she poked and prodded, though given that her sensation seemed to be all over the place at best, she was probably doing her best just to get any feedback from her hands at all.

The Doctor kept exploring, pulling almost frantically at Yaz’s clothes, feeling her body, legs and feet before moving her hands further up, patting her arms and shoulders. She pulled Yaz closer and inhaled deeply, before giving lots of small sniffs and moving her hands up to Yaz’s face.

So frenzied and thorough were her explorations, Yaz was honestly surprised the Doctor didn’t lick her.

Yaz closed her eyes and let her do it, she was desperately trying to make sense of the world in the only way that she could. But the Doctor was surprisingly gentle as she ran her hands over Yaz’s face and down her hair.

Then she paused. And started to cry.

Bu it wasn’t the same sort of crying. She wasn’t distressed… She was… relieved? Yaz couldn’t be sure.

The Doctor didn’t take her hands away from Yaz and she held on desperately, like Yaz was going to disappear in a puff of smoke if she didn’t.

Yaz rested her hands on the Doctor’s and when she didn’t become upset, she ran her hands up her arms and around her back, cautiously pulling her into a hug.

The effect was instant. The tension that had been ruling her disappeared instantly as she collapsed forward into Yaz’s arms and Yaz cradled her close.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s just me. I've got you, you’re safe.” Yaz murmured as she rocked them both lightly, holding the Doctor as she cried. “I’ve got you, I promise you’re safe.”

_No!_

_It couldn’t be Yaz._

_It just couldn’t._

_She reached out, determined to make sense of who or what (if anything) was there._

_She could feel the soft fabric of their clothes. A jumper maybe._

_Soft cotton… probably leggings._

_Fleecy socks. They felt nice._

_The body was small._

_It was so hard to feel, her hands seemed to be moving between ultra sensitive and nothing at all and she patted them hard, trying to get some sort of consistent feedback._

_She moved further up their body._

_A face._

_Definitely felt human._

_And hair._

_An image of Yaz’s space buns floated briefly across her mind._

_She sniffed._

_It still smelled like Yaz._

_But how could Yaz be here?_

_And where was here?_

_Yaz wasn’t wearing prison clothes…_

_Wait…_

_She wasn’t wearing that horrible, hard, itchy jumpsuit either._

_It was soft, warm, cosy._

_Pyjamas?_

_Was she… was she home?_

_Was Yaz really there?_

_She gave one final touch of the face._

_She could see Yaz’s face so clearly in her mind._

_It was so confusing._

_Then the noise, the noise that hadn’t hit home._

_It was muffled like it was underwater._

_She didn’t know what the words were._

_But she knew that voice._

_That was Yaz._

_She couldn’t help herself._

_She was crying._

_She stopped trying so hard and let herself fall because she knew Yaz was right there._

_Yaz would catch her._

_And she did._

_She was being held in Yaz’s arms._

_Being rocked and comforted._

_She didn’t know what to do but her body didn’t seem to be able to do anything other than cry with the tremendous relief of it all and she let it, too exhausted to do anything else._

_Huge, juddering sobs that left her gasping for breath._

_And all the while Yaz was holding her close, stroking her hair and talking to her._

_She had no idea what Yaz was saying but she didn’t care. She felt so safe. When was the last time she had felt safe? She honestly didn’t remember. But right now she didn’t care._

_She couldn’t see her. She didn’t care about that either._

_She didn’t have to._

_Because Yaz was there and that meant everything was okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't quite decided what's next... it'll be a surprise to us all! Hit me with suggestions/requests if you like!


	8. Interlude

Yaz walked back into the cottage, relishing the warmth that hit her after the frigid temperatures that had been outside. Her hair was a tangly matt after the wind had unplucked what felt like every individual strand from the long plait she had had down her back and she immediately made her way to the small bathroom to try and sort herself out. The morning had been quiet, the Doctor seemingly content to just lie still, immersed in her own thoughts. Now that she seemed to be properly conscious, it was tough to see her like that and Yaz knew their next step had to be getting her strong enough, both physically and mentally, to get her out of bed. 

The cottage had produced a couple of books but Yaz was finding them a little difficult to swallow... books on sign language, books on the deafblind manual alphabet and pro-tactile sign language which was something Yaz had never heard of but was apparently an adapted form of sign used by deafblind people, books on Braille, books on sensory integration. While the Doctor napped, she was ploughing through them and she was learning a lot, but it felt like a lot to take on. 

She actually knew a little sign language. There had been a lunchtime club at school that she had been part of for a few years while she hid from her tormentors, she'd even enjoyed it, but it hadn't lasted forever.

The only book she had found that seemed to cover the Doctor's specific condition, a total sensory shutdown in Timelords, said that they tended to recover fully in a few weeks or else not at all. That was it. One tiny paragraph at the end of a chapter. What was a few weeks? To Yaz a few weeks was probably no more than five or six but the Doctor was thousands of years old, for her a few weeks could be more like a year. She was just doing her best to remain calm and patient, but it felt so immensely hard.

With her hair replaited and a pair of slippers on her feet, Yaz went to sit with the Doctor. She sat down on a chair next to the bed and reached out, placing a firm hand on the Doctor's arm to let her know she was there. Like she always did, the Doctor startled at the sudden touch but at least she could feel it today, the day before she hadn't been able to and Yaz hadn’t been able to communicate with her at all. She grabbed Yaz's wrist tightly and held on, her grip vice-like. Yaz let her do it, she needed the reassurance. She urgently ran her other hand across Yaz's body, affirming to herself that it was indeed Yaz and not someone else sitting beside her. When she was satisfied, she visibly relaxed, sinking back against the pillows and Yaz was able to take her hand to communicate with her. They had improvised a few things over the last few days, but their communication was still very much one-sided, all coming from Yaz. The Doctor still wasn't speaking. She seemed to be able to hear when Yaz spoke sometimes, though not all the time, but even when she did seem to be able to hear, she didn't seem to have any comprehension of what was actually being said. 

Yaz wanted to get her out of bed to sit on the sofa and she prompted the Doctor to open up her hand so she could write on it, slowly spelling the words U-P and S-O-F-A to her. Whether or not she got what Yaz meant was impossible to predict because she didn't react either positively or negatively. However, she was more than capable of making her displeasure known and Yaz knew if she was unhappy she would make herself heard, even if she wasn't verbal so she took the lack of protest as consent and put her arms under the Doctor's shoulders and knees and scooped her up bridal style. She gave a cry of... fear? pain? displeasure? humiliation? and grabbed at Yaz with both hands, clinging on for dear life but Yaz persevered and carried her the few steps to the sofa where she stretched her out sideways and banked her up with a few pillows for extra stability, including one under her skinny legs and another under her feet. Yaz patiently sat with her while she oriented herself, she didn't move much, but she was frantically patting at the sofa, clearly trying to figure out where she was and what had just happened, all the while keeping one hand clamped against Yaz's arm. She was very confused, and it was a while before her grip on Yaz's arm began to relax.

_It was quiet. Dark. Mostly anyway._

_She liked it like that._

_No demands._

_Nobody wanted anything from her._

_Peace._

_Peace had always been so hard to come by._

_Something touched her arm._

_Like a thousand bolts of electricity traversing her body._

_She grabbed at it._

_She didn't like it._

_Stop!_

_It didn't._

_She reached out frantically._

_What was it?_

_Were they back again?_

_It felt like Yaz._

_She was small and muscular. Soft clothes. And she smelled right, like her shampoo. No space buns today._

_Yaz was nudging her hand._

_She stretched out her fingers and Yaz was tracing large, capital letters into her hand._

_She knew what they were individually but it was so hard to make concrete brain concentrate and put them together to make words._

_But then Yaz's hands were all over her._

_What was happening?_

_She didn't like it._

_She was being lifted._

_Stop!_

_Please stop!_

_She grabbed at Yaz frantically._

_What if it wasn't Yaz?_

_It felt like it lasted forever._

_She was hanging in the abyss._

_She didn't like it at all._

_And then she was down._

_But it wasn't where she had been._

_She'd moved._

_She grabbed at it._

_Where was she?_

_It didn't feel safe._

_Like she could tip over into the abyss at any moment._

_She could still feel Yaz and she held on tight._

_If it was Yaz, Yaz wouldn't let her fall._

When Yaz finally felt that the Doctor was calm enough to leave for a few minutes Yaz quickly grabbed their lunch from the bench, she had some fresh bread, cheese, salad and chicken, all sitting out on a plate as well as a few custard creams and a mug of tea in a cup with a lid and a straw. She wasn't sure how the Doctor would perceive the food, she couldn't see it. Would her sense of smell or taste be strong enough? Like everything else, their strength seemed to come and go. What about touch? Yaz wasn't sure and was braced for a tantrum. 

She put the simple meal on the table beside the Doctor and pushed it close, she hadn't reacted to it yet. Yaz sat beside her again, taking her hand gently. She guided the Doctor's hand in front of her to the plate, ghosting her fingers over the different food items.

The Doctor curled her fingers against herself. Whether she didn't want to touch the food or if she didn't like the sensation Yaz wasn't sure. 

Trying a different tactic, Yaz put a custard cream into her hand and raised her hand to her mouth, nudging the biscuit gently against her lips.

The Doctor sniffed, reminding Yaz a little of a bloodhound and very slowly and tentatively opened her mouth, putting the tiniest amount of biscuit clumsily into her mouth and nibbled a tiny corner. It was apparently to her satisfaction as a moment later she was stuffing the whole thing into her mouth, putting her hand out expectantly for another one. 

Yaz smiled, that was good communication! An improvement! But she wasn't going to sit here and feed her if she didn't have to. She took the Doctor's hand and guided it to the plate. She explored it thoroughly this time, grabbing handfuls of food and holding them to her mouth where she sniffed and licked. Yaz's guts lurched as she watched her. It was like she was feral or something, like she didn't expect there would be more. Maybe she didn't. It was impossible to know what she was thinking. 

One sign Yaz did remember was 'stop' and she signed it into the Doctor's palm and followed that by spelling the word, very concerned that she was going to cause herself to vomit again. 

But she didn't…

Suddenly, she was choking, gasping for breath. Yaz shoved her forward, slapping her on the back, trying to remember what you were supposed to do when someone choked. It was all happening so fast. 

A tiny crumb came out of her mouth and despite Yaz's hands steadying her, she sagged alarmingly. 

"You're okay, you're okay." Yaz soothed, feeling her shake beneath her as she wrapped one arm around her friend and used the other to sign the word 'okay' into her palm.

Yaz held her for a few minutes until her breathing steadied and she seemed more relaxed before picking up the mug of overly sweet tea and pushing it into one of the Doctor's hand and using the other one to run her fingers over the top of the mug so she knew there was both a lid and a straw. 

It was slow going and Yaz kept hold of the mug but the Doctor did manage to drink the tea before she slumped back into the pillows, completely and utterly exhausted. 

Yaz fetched a blanket from a chest that was at the bottom of the bed and let her sleep, taking the opportunity to change the bed sheets. This was such a long, hard road that they were travelling along together and Yaz really hoped they were both strong enough to tackle it. 

The Doctor's physical strength was obviously poor but her mental health wasn't good either. Obviously Yaz had no way of knowing for sure that her lack of speech was psychological rather than physical but sure was about 99% sure it was the former. She cried regularly, she was incredibly skittish... and then having all of the sensory issues flung over the top… her mind must be in bits. Yaz wished more than anything that she could talk to her. 

She finished the few jobs she still had to do and sat beside her on the sofa, easing herself in so the Doctor's feet were in her lap. 

They could do this… right?

The next few weeks fell into something of a routine. Yaz carried the Doctor to the sofa each morning, she had stopped fighting it. And she had managed to get her to the point where she could sit on the sofa properly without being at risk of falling. That was helpful, it made Yaz feel less like she needed to be watched and sat with 24/7. She wished she could do that for the Doctor, but she couldn’t. She needed to take breaks from her. Being with her was so hard, so demanding so… impossible.

What Yaz was surprised with was that the Doctor appeared to know sign language. It shouldn’t surprise her really, the Doctor seemed to know everything and Yaz felt like at least some of her words were getting through to her friend.

They had opened the channel of communication, even if the Doctor was refusing to talk. They had picked up the deafblind manual alphabet quickly, it wasn’t difficult, and the Doctor seemed to understand a little of Yaz’s admittedly very rusty sign language. Assuming her sensation was good enough, she would rest her hands lightly on Yaz’s, able to read her signs through touch though Yaz was accompanying them with speaking in the hopes that some of the Doctor’s hearing might start to come through a little stronger.

Even though the Doctor wasn’t signing to her, it was a start that Yaz could speak to her a little, warn her before things happened so she was less easily startled by things, explain a little about what was happening when she became overwhelmed and panicked, reassure her time and time again that it really was her and she wasn’t still in prison hallucinating.

Yaz very much hoped they were temporary measures though. They were a start but it wasn’t enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - Strength
> 
> EDIT: NEXT UP - BREATHE
> 
> (Strength will be the chapter after that).


	9. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well it's safe to say that this chapter is a surprise to us all. Hold onto your feels!

_She was so tired._

_Everything felt so hard._

_Yaz was talking to her again. She knew that much._

_But the words were struggling to hit home._

_She could feel them dancing on the membrane of her brain._

_But it was like they couldn’t sink through the concrete._

_Yaz was using sign language again._

_That was a little easier to understand._

_Sometimes._

_Every time she did it the Doctor had a memory of…_

_What was her name again?_

_Cass_

_She… well he at the time… had been so frustrated to not being able to talk with her directly, having to go through her interpreter._

_He always had been impatient._

_She could feel herself drifting away again._

_She was so tired and sleep was so easy._

_A bolt of pain shot through her body, emanating from her chest._

_She sat bolt upright, gasping._

_It was daytime._

_There was light, too much light._

_Something moved in front of her and then Yaz was touching her._

_She was signing something into her hand._

_But she couldn’t focus._

_She couldn’t breathe._

_Was this it?_

_Was she finally going to die?_

_The thought didn’t scare her anymore._

_It actually sounded nice._

_Yaz was getting more urgent._

_But she couldn’t feel her anymore._

_She allowed the welcome blackness to tug her back down into its depths._

Yaz sighed sadly. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind the Doctor’s ear for her and pulled the blankets round her shoulders more snugly. She had fallen asleep mid-conversation again. Well, Yaz had been talking to her. It couldn’t be described as a conversation when the other person didn’t respond. When you didn’t even know if they understood.

Yaz couldn’t believe how much she missed her friend.

Leaving her in peace Yaz picked up another one of the books that the cottage had made appear from nowhere, this one about exercises and activities to help integrate the senses though she was finding that there wasn’t a whole lot of new information in there. And I was completely unhelpful in pointing out ways to communicate to the person what you wanted them to do when they appeared to have little to no comprehension of what was going on around them.

Yaz had been reading in peace for a couple of hours, only pausing for a few minutes to go to the bathroom and add a few more logs to the fire. It was quiet and cosy and if the Doctor was doing better than she currently was, Yaz knew she would be perfectly content. But she had so much worry nagging at the back of her head it was impossible to properly relax. Especially when…

The Doctor sat up suddenly, a look of sheer panic across her face as she wheezed and gasped for breath and Yaz ran over, sitting in front of her.

“Doctor, you’re okay. You’re safe.” Yaz told her, grabbing the Doctor’s hand and signing into it at the same time.

Was she having a panic attack? Yaz wasn’t sure. Was it her heart?

She was sagging sideways now. She had gotten good at sitting up over the last fortnight or so even if they hadn’t attempted to get her standing but now Yaz was holding her up.

What was wrong with her?

Yaz was on the verge of panicking herself.

What did she need to do?

It felt like the closest they had come to an actual emergency situation in all the weeks they had been together, and she didn’t know what to do.

The Doctor was grabbing at her chest. Tugging at her t-shirt that she was wearing but Yaz had no idea what she wanted, what she was trying to communicate.

“Tell me! Talk to me!” she demanded, signing her words into the Doctor’s palm as she spoke them. “I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know what you need.”

For a moment Yaz thought the Doctor might be on the verge of answering but then her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out.

Yaz hoped.

She put her head to the Doctor’s chest.

The one heart was still beating but… was it irregular? It didn’t sound right. She was breathing, but it was slow and shallow mixed with agonal gasps.

She didn’t know what to do!

I need help!

Yaz looked around the room, desperately seeking something, anything, that might tell her what to do in this situation. Not like she could call an ambulance to this remote little island. Not like she could call an ambulance when the patient was an alien.

There!

On top of the fireplace was something that definitely hadn’t been there earlier. Yaz grabbed it, she hadn’t seen one like it before but she thought it might be an oxygen mask though it didn’t seem to be connected to anything. Future tech and all that. It was made of a cool blue coloured… Yaz wasn’t sure, it didn’t feel like plastic and when she rested it against the Doctor’s face it automatically secured itself, moulding itself to her prominent cheekbones and staying in place, even when Yaz propped her up into a sitting position. That was what you did to someone having a heart attack right? Half up, half down because lying flat was best for a weak heart and being upright was best for breathing so meeting in the middle…

Was she having a heart attack?

Oh God! What if she died?

“Please don’t die Doctor” Yaz begged, tears flowing down her cheeks as she held her friends hand tightly. “You can't die. Not now. Not after all this.”

Yaz didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t sure there was anything she could do. But if this was it. If this was how the Doctor died, Yaz wasn’t letting her go alone. Not without knowing that she was loved. Without knowing that someone cared.

Careful not to jostle her, Yaz climbed into bed beside her and carefully pulled her in close, holding her. She needed to know someone was there. She needed to know she wasn’t alone. 

Yaz wasn’t sure how long she sat with her. But as dawn broke, she was aware that the Doctor’s breathing had slowed even more. Her skin was like ice to the touch and Yaz was rubbing her hands with her own, trying to bring some warmth to them. She wrapped the blankets around them more securely and tucked the Doctor’s head under her chin, planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

“It’s okay Doctor. You can go. I understand, I won’t ask you to stay. You can leave now. I love you.”

She stroked the Doctor’s hair, she talked to her quietly, reminding her of their adventures together. Of better times. She reminded her of how much she was loved and how she meant so much to so many. She had been in the Doctor’s head and it was a terrifying, lonely chasm filled with grief and loss. She needed to know that there were still people who cared for her.

The morning wore on. Yaz didn’t move from the Doctor’s side. Not even for a second. No one should die alone. She would be there until the very end. She was holding the Doctor almost in her lap now, cradling her close and rocking them both. She had run out of things to say but she hummed softly under her breath, songs she remembered her Nani singing to her when she was a little girl.

Evening now. The Doctor was still hanging on, barely breathing, her chest rising almost imperceptibly every minute or so.

Yaz prayed. Familiar prayers she had said her whole life. Prayers for the dying.

The Doctor didn’t have a religion.

But Yaz didn’t think she’d mind.

A memory of the sincerity on her face as they had said the incant for Eve Cissero on Tsuranga.

The words floated back to her with surprising ease.

“May the saints of all the stars and constellations bring you hope as they guide you out of the dark and into the light, on this voyage and the next, and on all the journeys still to come for now and evermore.”

It felt appropriate.

“I’m with you Doctor. It’s okay. You can go. I’ve got you.” Yaz whispered into her ear.

Yaz struggled to keep her voice steady as she held the Doctor’s limp hand in her own.

Tears were flowing freely down her face but if the Doctor had any awareness at all, Yaz didn’t want her to know she was upset.

She deserved to go peacefully and with dignity.

Yaz woke with a start, sitting up suddenly. Had she missed it? Was she…

She was utterly still and Yaz couldn’t see her chest moving. She reached out a trembling hand, feeling for the pulse point in the Doctor’s neck.

It was there.

Faint and weak.

But present.

Just about.

Yaz slipped off the bed quietly, heading for the bathroom and made herself a cup of tea and some toast. She couldn’t be strong for the Doctor when she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything in days. She kept hold of the Doctor’s cold, bony hand and ate with the other.

Wait…

Her fingers…

Did they move?

The piece of toast was dropped on the floor and Yaz neither noticed nor cared.

Yaz gently stretched out her fingers and signed into her palm. “Can you hear me Doctor?” It’s Yaz. I'm right here with you. You’re safe here.”

The Doctor didn’t open her eyes but her fingers curled around Yaz’s hand in a weak grasp.

Yaz reached up and gently stroked her face, crying in relief.

“I don’t know what you need Doctor.” Yaz told her, signing every word slowly while she spoke.

The Doctor slowly and painfully moved her other hand. Yaz had had it resting on her stomach for her and she dragged it up so it was resting on her chest, each movement looking like it was costing her a monumental amount of energy that she just didn’t have.

Her hand fell uncomfortably away from her chest and Yaz gently adjusted it so it was in a relaxed, neutral position.

“Your heart has stopped. I know. I don’t know how to fix it.” Her sign language felt better now she was so desperate.

The Doctor exhaled.

And for a terrible moment, Yaz thought she wasn’t going to inhale again.

But eventually she did.

The Doctor signed a single word against Yaz’s hand.

_Hit_

“Hit? You want me to hit you?” Yaz asked. Was her brain that oxygen deprived that she was delirious now?

_Hit heart. Front. Back. Hard._

It took her an age to sign those five simple words. Each sign sloppier and weaker than the next. In fact, Yaz was only half convinced that that was what she’d said because it sounded so ludicrous. How was she supposed to hit her when she was in such a weakened state?

But she had to try.

She probably wasn’t going to make things any worse at this point.

Supporting the Doctor’s head carefully so as not to put her body under any additional stress, Yaz pulled out the pillows that had been holding her in the semi-upright position she was in and laid her flat.

As she stared at her, she realised she didn’t even know where the Doctor’s second heart was located. For all she knew it was in her knees.

Well that wasn’t very likely. The Doctor had touched her chest and Yaz did her best to aim for the same spot. Slightly to the right and slightly up. She made a fist with both hands and, unable to believe what she was about to do to the woman literally dying in front of her, Yaz slammed them into her chest as hard as she could.

The Doctor let out a huge gasp, spluttering like she was choking and without waiting, Yaz unceremoniously rolled her onto her front and did the same, hitting her in the back with all the force she could muster before carefully rolling her again so she could see her.

She put her head to the Doctor’s chest, listening and feeling intently.

And started to cry.

There it was.

That wonderful, incredible, glorious sound. Two hearts working in sync.

Her breathing didn’t sound so strained either.

Yaz found herself laughing from the sheer relief of it all and she jumped slightly when the Doctor’s still too cold hands found her arm, nudging her insistently, wanting… no demanding her attention.

“Are you okay?” Yaz asked, keeping up with the speaking and signing.

The Doctor nodded. Actually nodded. And gave the sign for thank-you before drifting back to sleep.

It wasn’t until later, much later when Yaz was curled up like a cat in the armchair at the Doctor’s beside, still too worried about her friend to sit on the sofa about five paces away that Yaz realised that the Doctor had signed to her. Actual words. On two separate occasions.

She was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - Strength


	10. Strength

_It hurts._

_She has the vaguest sensation of Yaz moving her foot for her._

_Every time she tries herself it’s like moving through concrete._

_Or maybe more like wet cement seeing as her limbs actually do respond a little now._

_She can sort of see Yaz today._

_Not really but a little bit._

_She’s a vaguely human shaped shadow in her central vision._

_There are no details._

_Or periphery._

_But it’s nice._

_Comforting._

_She focuses on that._

_Because she knows Yaz is talking to her._

_Yaz always talks to her._

_But today the sounds don’t register at all._

_That’s okay. The peace is nice._

By the time Yaz finished stretching the Doctor’s body out for her in exactly the same way she did three times a day, the Doctor was already falling asleep on the sofa, her eyes barely open. She gave in and tucked the blanket around her.

It was a weird day. She had been able to see the Doctor’s eyes, they were still shrouded and made Yaz feel almost sick to look at because of what that meant, though she was sure they had been tracking her. But even when Yaz had sworn loudly after stubbing her toe on the coffee table the Doctor hadn’t even blinked. She had read that her senses could come and go on a spectrum but this was her first time seeing it so starkly. The Doctor appeared to be seeing more (although how much was impossible to say) but she didn’t seem to be able to hear anything. They were the easiest of her senses for Yaz to monitor and she was keeping notes, in fact she had filled several notebooks in the few short months they had been on the island.

While the Doctor napped, Yaz spent most of the time daydreaming while gazing out the window. The world felt marginally less frigid now. Maybe the Doctor would like to go outside for a while? There were two reclining deck chairs outside the cottage, if Yaz wrapped her up warm there was no reason why she couldn’t spend some time out there. It was cold but the sea air, the sand, the waves… Jack had chosen this peaceful and idyllic setting for a reason. They should make the most of its benefits.

The Doctor’s naps were getting shorter and she was awake in less than an hour. That was good Yaz supposed, she must be getting stronger if she was needing less rest. On the other hand, it gave her less time to walk her circuits of the island which was her thinking and processing time. Just a few days ago she had gone out and when she had come back the Doctor had been incredibly distressed and pushed Yaz away from her when she had tried to provide her with some comfort. Yaz wasn’t sure if it was in anger or because she wasn’t sure who it was.

Yaz sat down next to her, tapping her twice just above her elbow with three fingers to let her know who it was. Obviously Yaz was the only person she was ever with at the moment but it was an easy way to identify a person and they could adapt it for anyone she was likely to meet regularly when they got home.

What even was home for her now anyway? Not like she could go back to Gallifrey, Yaz still dreamt about it sometimes. The smell of burning and smoke had filled her nose for weeks after they had left there.

As she had started to do, just in the last two days, the Doctor tentatively reached out and touched Yaz’s arms, running her hands lightly along them until they found Yaz’s hands where she waited (im)patiently for Yaz to sign whatever it was she was going to.

Yaz could tell that she relied heavily on the sign language rather than her hearing, which she obviously couldn’t use today but even when her hearing was better it was like she didn’t register any spoken language yet. It was a good thing the signing she had learned in school seemed to be coming back to her as well as new bits she’d picked up from the Doctor and the books. And when she got stuck there was always the deafblind manual alphabet.

“Do you want to go outside? There are some chairs.” Yaz signed, the Doctor’s hands resting lightly on her own, her face frowning as she concentrated.

The Doctor took her hands away from Yaz’s, twisting them anxiously in her lap.

She looked afraid.

“You don’t have to. Its your choice.” Yaz added, nudging her hands against the Doctor’s again.

There was a pause that felt like it went on forever until finally the Doctor gave a very tiny nod.

“I'm going to get you a coat.” Yaz explained, rummaging in the drawers.

There were no coats, but she did find a huge, thick hoodie and wraps which she brought over and put on the Doctor’s lap. She explored them carefully, trying to work out what they were. Yaz helped her put the hoodie on over her pyjamas and wrapped a scarf around her neck, cramming a hat on her head at the same time.

But when she tried to help the Doctor put on a pair of gloves the Doctor literally screeched at her, snatching her hands back and shoving them behind her back where Yaz couldn’t reach them.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Yaz apologised, signing lightly against her cheek very gently in the absence of her hands, suddenly realising what the problem was. She was so limited as it was, putting gloves on her would be depriving her of the one sense that seemed to be working semi-reliably that day. “Can I talk to you?” Yaz asked. “The gloves are gone.”

The Doctor very nervously moved her hands forwards, holding out her right hand for Yaz to sign to her.

“I’m sorry about the gloves. I didn’t think of how scary that would be for you.” Yaz apologised. “We can go outside now, I'm going to lift you.” Yaz warned her.

The Doctor clung to her tightly, holding fistfuls of Yaz’s jumper and jumping slightly when she was gently placed on the wooden deck chair and she shifted uncomfortably until Yaz carefully put some pillows under the parts of her that were most bony before topping her with a blanket to keep the wind off her.

“Okay?” she checked, relieved when the Doctor replied with a small nod and Yaz sat in the other chair, resting her hand on the arm of the Doctor’s chair so she knew where it was and could communicate if she wanted to.

After they had been sitting outside for a while, Yaz was starting to feel a little chilly and she had the perfect idea for a warm-up.

“Hot chocolate?” she signed into the Doctor’s palm.

Her small, answering smile was the best thing Yaz had seen for days.

_It was cold._

_But not prison cold._

_Warm cold._

_That didn’t make sense._

_Not scary cold?_

_The wind was blowing but it was nice._

_It made the ends of her hair flutter against her neck under the hat Yaz had put on her head._

_She was tired again._

_It was ridiculous._

_She’d only just napped._

_And the chair wasn’t comfortable._

_But Yaz was right there and that was nice._

_They weren’t touching, that would be too much._

_But her hand was on the arm of her chair._

_She reached out to check, her fingertips just brushing against Yaz’s… knuckles?_

_Yep, still there._

_She let her head fall back against the chair._

_She sniffed._

_Salt._

_Seaweed._

_Bird poo… she wrinkled her nose at that one._

_There could be birds, she wouldn’t know today. It was like someone had poured the concrete into her ears._

_She reached out her other hand, the one that wasn’t beside Yaz, experimentally, feeling down._

_Sand, slightly damp._

_Ran through her fingers like water._

_Small, smooth pebbles._

_Rough wood… the leg of the chair maybe?_

_Something soft… she wasn’t sure on that one… maybe a plant._

_Suddenly Yaz tapped her hand, she wanted to talk._

_“H-O-T C-H-O-C-O-L-A-T-E?” Yaz spelled into her palm._

_It took her a minute to piece together the letters._

_She smiled._

_That sounded perfect._

_“I’ll be back.”_

_She hadn’t been able to see or hear Yaz._

_She had been able to see her outline when they had been inside but the light out here was too bright._

_But as soon as she was gone she missed her._

_Suddenly the world felt very big._

_She didn’t know where she was._

_Was something behind her?_

_She reached out._

_Her arm wouldn’t move properly._

_What if they came back?_

_She needed to get out of here._

_It’s not safe!_

_She was breathing too fast._

_Swinging her legs over the side of the chair she stood._

_But she didn’t._

_She was falling!_

_She couldn’t help it._

_She screamed._

Yaz was just adding the marshmallows to the hot chocolate when the peace was shattered, the Doctor’s pained screams coming from outside. She dropped the mug in the sink.

The screaming had stopped and the Doctor wasn’t where Yaz had left her.

She panicked. Had whoever had been holding her in prison come back for her?

But then she saw her. The cottage was on a hill. It had a small wooden deck where they had both been sitting, the Doctor must have tried to get up and fallen, sliding down the grass… she must have been terrified.

Yaz ran towards her, she was curled into a protective ball at the bottom of the hill and Yaz approached slowly, talking to her even though she knew she couldn’t be heard. She was visibly shaking and when Yaz tapped her arm with her three fingers she screamed.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe.” Yaz soothed. She didn’t sign that, just held the Doctor’s hand carefully, running her thumb over the back of her hand.

She was breathing harshly. Was she having a panic attack?

Yaz tried to remember the training she’d had on panic attacks. Something about getting them to list things they could see or hear in order to ground them.

Fat lot of good that was.

Acting on instinct, Yaz gently took the hand she was holding and placed it on her chest where the Doctor would be able to feel her heartbeat and breaths.

She took the Doctor’s other and carefully signed into it.

“Breathe with me. 5 counts in. Hold for 5. Out for 5. Hold for 5. Repeat.” She explained clearly before taking a deep breath in.

Yaz wasn’t sure the Doctor understood what Yaz had told her, but she persisted with the breathing, still clamping the Doctor’s hand to her chest with one hand and squeezing the other tightly, hoping the Doctor would manage to pick up on the rhythm and be able to ground herself.

It felt like it was lasting forever.

The Doctor was hyperventilating, tears were streaking down her agonised face. She looked so small, so frightened. Yaz longed to hold her tightly but she didn’t dare. Even holding her hands like this when she was panicking was a risk.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe here.” Yaz reminded her but she didn’t have another hand to sign with. Why was this so hard.

The Doctor had started to gasp for breath but it was evening out. She let go of Yaz’s hand and clutched at her chest. She looked terrified.

Yaz took her hand firmly, “You’re not having a heart attack. This is anxiety. You’re safe here.” She signed. “Keep breathing with me.”

By the time Yaz had helped the Doctor regain control she could barely feel her hands and feet she was so cold and the Doctor’s tears had frozen to her face.

“I'm going to take you inside.” Yaz explained to her before slowly and carefully picking her up. The Doctor clutched at her tightly… it must be so frightening for her. She still didn’t really know where she was or what was happening and then to be picked up and carried, the last modicum of control she had.

Yaz settled her on the sofa but the Doctor wouldn’t let go, her hands were fisted in Yaz’s jumper and she let out a small cry when Yaz tried to move away.

Yaz sighed, looking at the mess from the hot chocolate that had been dropped. That wasn’t important now. She sank back into the sofa and wrapped her arms tightly around the Doctor. She had started crying again and Yaz allowed her the comfort she so desperately needed, she had somehow grabbed a fistful of her hair and was holding it in front of her face, inhaling deeply.

“You’re gonna be okay Doctor. I'm gonna help you I promise.” Yaz whispered to her.

While the Doctor’s fall a few days previously had clearly given her a terrible fright, it also seemed to have woken something in her, a little of her old self and her stubborn streak could be seen, just a little. Like a tiny corner of the sun peeping through the clouds on a stormy day.

Which was why Yaz was currently arguing with her.

“You need a shower.” Yaz tried to sign to her but she was doing her new favourite trick: when she didn’t want to be told something she wouldn’t let Yaz touch her hands to communicate with her.

The morning had gotten off to a bad start anyway when she had realised she had no sense of smell, it was the main way she identified Yaz and Yaz often found the Doctor sniffing her, desperately seeking that reassurance, she tried not to be too weirded out by it but it could be unsettling. Instead that morning, any time Yaz had had to move away from her for any reason she had found herself being thoroughly poked and prodded upon her return as the Doctor tried to make sure that it was definitely Yaz who was trying to communicate with her, in the only way she could.

“Why not?”

The Doctor pulled her hands away angrily and with a loud grunt, wrapping them tightly under her knees so Yaz couldn’t force her to communicate.

Yaz tried very hard not to get cross with her. It wouldn’t do any good and the Doctor was trying her best. Yaz was too. But it was so hard. It was asking so much. She put a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder to signal to her that she was walking away and went to stand outside. She needed a break.

_Why didn’t she get it?_

_Didn’t she know what she was asking?_

_She didn’t want to!_

_She just wanted to be left alone._

_She had been so close to finally being free._

_To oblivion._

_And then someone had to come and rescue her._

_And now she was stuck in this eternal hell that was somehow even worse than her cell._

_Senses that didn’t really work._

_That didn’t even not work reliably because sometimes they worked better than others._

_It was so confusing. It made her head ache all the time._

_And Yaz, demanding things from her all the time._

_Eat._

_Drink._

_Shower._

_Get up._

_Talk._

_Just leave me alone!_

The wind whipped around Yaz’s hair, tugging all the little tendrils from her plait and making them stand out wildly.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!” she shouted to the ocean. “ITS TOO HARD, I DON’T KNOW HOW TO TAKE CARE OF HER!”

She was crying now, the first time in weeks. She had been making tiny baby steps of progress but now all she seemed to want to do was lie in bed with the duvet over her head, like she was pretending that was the reason she couldn’t see or hear.

She had every right to be depressed, of course she did, but it was just about the most unhelpful emotion she could have right now. Fear or anger, they could be channelled but depression was hopeless, eating away at your soul and chipping away at your heart until you felt like there was nothing left.

Yaz closed the door and splashed water on her face before turning to face the bed. The Doctor hadn’t moved, she was still curled forlornly into a tight ball.

Yaz sat next to her on the bed and tapped her arm. The Doctor tensed at the contact but reluctantly held out her hands with a cross huff.

“You don’t want me to help you.” Yaz signed slowly. “But you need to shower. Some of your cuts are still open. They need to be kept clean. And you smell.” Yaz told her bluntly.

The Doctor stiffened, she looked furious. Like she would be shouting at Yaz if she could. 

“Do you think you can walk to the bathroom if I help you? It’s about 8 steps away?”

Her face morphed into one of fear.

“I know the shower is overwhelming, but you can't avoid it for ever.”

She hesitated and Yaz kept hold of her hand, choosing to wait out the silence.

Finally, finally, her patience was rewarded. The Doctor gave a small flick of her wrist, the sign for yes, and Yaz grinned in triumph, safe in the knowledge that the Doctor wouldn’t be able to see that.

She pulled the Doctor a little closer to the edge of the bed and helped her swing her legs over the side of it… she was still _so_ thin.

“I'm going to put my arm around your waist, lean on me, I won’t let you fall” Yaz explained. Once she was standing they wouldn’t be able to talk until she was sat down again and they had their hands free.

Yaz wrapped her arms tightly around the Doctor, taking most of her weight as she got her to stand up slowly. She wavered on her feet, slumping against Yaz who caught her, staggering slightly.

When she was sure the Doctor was as balanced as she was going to get Yaz carefully guided her to the bathroom, the Doctor’s body becoming heavier with every step. She clearly wasn’t ready to bear her own weight yet, they needed to do more to build her up.

Yaz had already filled the bath and she sat the Doctor on the side of it, guiding her hand to feel the water.

“Is it too hot?”

The Doctor shook her head and Yaz held her steady as she helped her out of her pyjamas. The Doctor just looked miserable. She had always been so independent and so averse to being touched, to be so reliant now, so weak and so in need of physical contact… Yaz honestly couldn’t imagine how hard that was for her.

But one thing was for sure she decided as she controlled the other woman’s descent into the tub where she automatically hunched her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around them. They were both going to have to be so strong. Mentally and physically. Because it seemed like this road had only just begun.


	11. Speech

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for not replying to any of your comments from last week. I appreciate them very much and will reply soon. As some of you know I had a bad fall a couple of days ago and have ended up in hospital needing emergency surgery to replace my replacement hip. Fun times. But I wanted to get something out because I love a schedule.

The Doctor was leaning heavily on Yaz’s arm as they slowly walked a circuit of the island. She had gradually started to build up some more strength, but she was still weak and tired easily. They were both wrapped up warm against the bracing cold in cosy jumpers, wool coats, hats, scarves and gloves. The Doctor was also wearing a pair of dark glasses, protecting her eyes from the glare of the bright sunshine.

“Are you okay?” Yaz asked, speaking as she signed and catching her as she stumbled over a rock she hadn’t seen.

The Doctor turned to look at her and Yaz could practically see her squinting at her despite the glasses that were obscuring most of her face.

She nodded slowly and Yaz squeezed her hand lightly in response. She had hoped that as the Doctor improved, she would start to speak, but she hadn’t. She barely communicated at all, and when she did it was almost exclusively through grunts, screaming and crying. She did sign a little but if Yaz got two comments out of her in a day it had been a very successful day. Mostly, it was like she was still trapped in that cell, though this time she was trapped inside her head, behind bars that Yaz couldn’t penetrate no matter how hard she tried.

They made it round the island without any further incident though the walk took close to two hours (not including several rest stops along the way) as opposed to the twenty-five minutes it took Yaz on her own.

Yaz warned the Doctor they were back before guiding her back inside and over to the sofa. She immediately took off the dark glasses, tears streaming down her face in a dirty river as her eyes adjusted. She was having one of her better days sight wise, but her eyes were incredibly sensitive to light, they couldn’t cope with the bright sunshine outside, but equally without enough light she was rendered totally blind again. Even when the lighting was just right it didn’t seem like she could see all that much at all, everything seemed to descend into blurs and indistinct shapes. It was a balancing act that they were both still learning.

On the other hand, away from the quiet splashing of waves and distant calling of seagulls, the Doctor could hear after a fashion. The cottage had once again done it’s magical summoning thing and had produced what Yaz could only describe as hearing aids, though they didn’t look like the kind Umbreen wore. For one, they were deep blue, TARDIS blue Yaz had realised with a pang the first time she had seen them, they curved around the Doctor’s ears, settling behind her lobes and had nothing that appeared to secure them in place or went into her ear at all. Alien technology Yaz supposed. But even they didn’t seem to do enough to help her hear clearly, Yaz had to speak slowly and carefully, be right in front of her and have no background noise for her words to make it through though without them she got nothing so it was still an improvement and Yaz would take what she could get. The Doctor was less enamoured with them and frequently hid them as the sensory overload got too much.

After a decade or so of total silence, total darkness and a complete absence of feeling, taste and smell it wasn’t surprising that everything was so overwhelming for her. But understanding didn’t make it easier to deal with. 

Yaz left her on the sofa to make them something to eat. She was exhausted and if she was honest with herself, she was starting to get frustrated too. After all this time she had really expected the Doctor to be doing better than she was, but she was so… listless. Getting any kind of reaction out of her at all felt almost impossible. Or getting her to do anything other than lie on the bed or sit on the sofa, it was like she was in a constant battle in her own head and nothing could interrupt it.

Yaz put a plate of sandwiches on the table in front of the Doctor.

“Lunch.” She announced which the Doctor ignored, continuing to stare at nothing.

Yaz took her hand. “Lunch” she repeated, signing this time and guiding the Doctor’s hand towards the plate and the mug of tea.

The Doctor pulled her hands back crossly.

“Doctor, you need to eat. You like chicken sandwiches! There’s custard creams too!” Yaz told her, trying to tempt her.

Getting her to do anything involving self care – eating, showering, going for a walk, exercising her swollen, painful joints, doing anything to try and reintegrate her senses, it was like going to war every single time. 

The Doctor pulled her hearing aids out with a grunt, throwing them onto the sofa and Yaz groaned loudly, she knew there was no point in talking to her without them which was the Doctor’s very clear intention. She touched the Doctor’s hand lightly in an attempt to sign to her instead, but it proved to be a mistake. The Doctor screeched loudly, snatching her hands back, tucking them under her armpits where Yaz couldn’t reach them and kicking out, her booted foot catching the table and sending it flying, showering the floor in tea, custard cream crumbs going everywhere and sandwiches soaking up the puddle.

Yaz froze, staring at the mess slowly spreading across the wooden floor and gradually seeping into the rug. The Doctor didn’t seem to have noticed, her face was contorted in anger and she made no move to sort out the huge mess she had just created.

Yaz bit her tongue. Shouting at the woman who had spent decades in captivity would not be a good thing. She got off the sofa and stormed furiously towards the door, slamming it behind her, not caring if the sound made the Doctor jump. She was so angry. She could feel it coursing through her body, waves of frustration and pain and _fury_. They had been on the island for _months_. In that time Yaz hadn’t spoken to a single person who would talk back to her. She’d been caring for the Doctor 24/7 without any respite. She’d said _goodbye_ to her for crying out loud. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.

Yaz angrily kicked the sand, a satisfying cloud of it dispersing in the air and landing on the wooden decking as she breathed heavily, trying to calm herself down before she said or did something she might regret. She was _so_ tired. She needed… she needed the Doctor to do more, to try harder to… to be the Doctor. Because the shell of a person sitting on the sofa inside the cottage, that wasn’t the Doctor and Yaz missed her. God, she missed her more than she even knew was possible but she was _right there._ It was so confusing.

Gripping the fence tightly Yaz forced herself to try and calm down. The soothing presence of the island slowly seeped it’s way in and she swiped impatiently at tears that were trickling down her face without her consent. She wasn’t going to cry. It wasn’t helpful. She had tried the softly softly approach. She had been gentle and patient and tolerant but it wasn’t working. She took a deep breath and marched back into the cottage.

The Doctor hadn’t moved. She never moved so that didn’t surprise Yaz but it did frustrate her. Her hearing aids weren’t on the sofa where they had been ten minutes before, she had presumably hidden them again. Yaz marched over to her, her temper back all of a sudden and threatening to spill over but she put a tight reign on it.

Yaz grabbed her hand, the Doctor knew she was there, her eyes had been tracking her across the room as she had collected a kitchen roll for the tea and the floor brush for the crumbs.

She put both items on the Doctor’s lap, taking her hand to sign to her. The Doctor shoved her hands back into her armpits, turning her head away from Yaz but Yaz was having none of it. She impatiently grabbed the Doctor’s hands again, making her pay attention.

“You threw it, you clean it up!” Yaz signed into her palm, trying not to shout while she did so.

The Doctor screamed at her, trying to pull away from Yaz’s grasp and lashing out wildly, making solid contact with her cheek.

That hurt. That had _really_ hurt and Yaz froze in shock for a moment. The Doctor had hit her. The pacifist to the ends of the universe had actually hit her. The emotional sting hurt far more than the physical one.

“STOP! Don’t you _dare_ hit me!”

The Doctor continued to struggle and Yaz caught her wrists before she made contact for a second time, forcing her to the floor. She pushed the kitchen roll into her hands.

“You need to clean it!” she explained clearly, guiding her hand to where the puddle started.

The Doctor was crying now and Yaz found she was too, watching the Doctor attempt to clean up her mess. She was shaking, a teary, snotty, red faced mess and it was horrible to witness. Yaz wanted to stop. To hold her tight and make it all be over, make it so she wasn’t in so much pain, but she couldn’t. because that hadn’t been working. She knew something needed to change but it felt brutal. It _was_ brutal. With the tea mopped up Yaz didn’t give in, giving the Doctor the dustpan and brush and showing her where the crumbs were but refusing to relent.

By the time the Doctor had finished her chest was heaving with the effort and when Yaz took the dustpan and brush away from her she physically pushed Yaz away, scrambling backwards until her back collided in the sofa.

Yaz watched her sadly. This was _so_ hard. She felt guilty. Had she gone too far? Possibly. But it was too late now.

Now more cross with herself than with the Doctor, Yaz put the things away in the kitchen. The Doctor didn’t move but Yaz knew she was watching.

Yaz strode over to the sofa and started rummaging. The Doctor refused to move without Yaz there to guide her even when her sight was at its best, which it certainly wasn’t today, so the hearing aids had to be there somewhere.

“Aha!” she muttered triumphantly a few moments later, extracting them from inside the sofa cushion. Mostly she was sad, but the Doctor managing to hide them so well gave her a tiny glimmer of hope.

She put them on the mantlepiece for safe keeping. The Doctor, alarmed by Yaz’s frantic rummaging had retreated further into her shell, curling up into a tight ball and Yaz’s insides clenched alarmingly as she watched the other woman rock, groaning to herself the way she tended to when she was over stimulated. It was happening more and more as her senses slowly improved.

Yaz slowly sank down next to her on the floor while the Doctor continued to rock next to her. She didn’t reach out and touch her, much as she wanted to. It wouldn’t help.

“I wish I knew how to help you Doctor. I wish I knew what to do.” Yaz told her, knowing full well the Doctor couldn’t hear her. “I miss you. When you were gone it was like the sun had gone out and when Jack told me he knew where you were… it was the best news anyone has ever given me. But seeing you like this… the thing I wish the most is that this had never happened to you. Because you don’t deserve it. No one does. But definitely not you.”

It felt good to talk to her properly. To say what needed to be said regardless of her being unable to hear it. She didn’t react to Yaz speaking to her at all which Yaz had been expecting, but knowing that even on her best of days her best friend in the universe couldn’t see, hear, feel, taste or smell properly was excruciating. Knowing that it might not get any better than this for her… it was cruel. It was unfair. It was wrong. _Nobody_ should be going through what she was going through right now.

_Everything was too much again._

_Yaz was angry._

_More angry than she had ever seen her._

_And she was angry with her._

_The woman who was trained to always keep her cool, who was always calm and unflinching in a crisis was angry._

_And she had done that._

_It was all her fault._

_And she had hit her._

_Why had she done that?_

_She just wanted everything to stop._

_But she had hit Yasmin Khan, the best of humanity._

_She was so ashamed._

_And the mess._

_What was happening to her?_

_It was like she wasn’t in control of herself anymore._

_Like she didn’t even know herself anymore._

_Who was she?_

_Yaz was close again._

_She could feel her anger like it was stabbing her._

_She disappeared for a minute but then she was back, sitting on the floor next to her._

_Yaz didn’t touch._

_She was grateful for that at least._

_She didn’t think she could handle that._

_She was making such a mess of everything._

_She should do something about that._

“I’m sorry Yaz.”

Yaz turned to the Doctor in shock. 

Her voice was rough and croaky, like it was being forced over sandpaper but it was undeniably hers. Warm, distinctly Northern, gentle… Yaz thought she had never heard something so wonderful.

The Doctor reached out tentatively and Yaz caught her hand, clutching it gently and she rested her head on the Doctor’s shoulder.

Yaz tapped the Doctor’s hand to get her to open her palm to receive sign language.

“I love you. You’re my best friend and I love you so much. Just… don’t give up okay? Because I won’t.” she vowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Getting there.


	12. Getting There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, my health isn't good right now but it's up. One more chapter to go!

Yaz was out again. Or at least, she was pretty sure she was. Yaz never said where she went but she disappeared for a while every day.

“Hello?” she whispered tentatively.

She waited but there was no response, and she gripped the edge of the sofa she was sitting on tightly, trying to ground herself and remind herself that the world wasn’t about to fall out from underneath her just because she couldn’t see it.

It was so… jarring. She knew she was speaking. She could feel the vibrations in her throat. But she couldn’t hear her own voice. Not really. The hearing aids Yaz had given her gave her… feedback. But she wouldn’t call it hearing. Nothing sounded right and they gave her the most horrendous headaches she had ever experienced in her life. It was like… like being in the bottom of a well and someone was shouting at her from the top, but their voice was echoing and reverberating off the walls until they became so distorted and faint that she couldn’t understand a word.

Which led to another point, where had Yaz got them? She had explained that they were on a remote Scottish island, just the two of them, so where had the sound amplification strips come from? They were from the 34th century and worked by making the hairs in the inner ear more sensitive to vibrations. They also should have been working better than they were.

She sighed heavily and pulled the ‘hearing aids’ as Yaz called them, away from her ears. She hated the damn things anyway even if they probably would have picked up the sound of Yaz returning to the cabin, she was noisy and always slammed the door. As much as she tried to remember, she just couldn’t decide if Yaz had always been so noisy or if she was doing it now to try and make her more aware of where she was in the cabin. Either way she liked it. It made it slightly less like she was existing in a vacuum.

Existing. It wasn’t really living, not like this. She had racked her brains trying to remember her training at the academy, what they had learned about sensory deprivation. It was a spectrum she was sure, some people never got past the living in a vat of concrete stage she had been in, others made a full recovery and others could land at any point between those two extremes.

She remembered being taken to visit someone, she couldn’t remember who, who had been suffering with it. They had been lying in bed, eyes open but unseeing, being fed artificially. She had been a child at the time, hyperactive and excitable, impervious to the sobriety of the occasion and had jumped straight onto the bed, demanding a story, only to be pulled away and hushed by relatives. She had been in that state, but she wasn’t now.

Food tasted to an extent, most of the time. She could smell when it was being cooked or the scent of Yaz’s shampoo. Her touch… it was weird, sometimes she couldn’t feel anything at all while other times it was like someone had exposed all her nerve endings and anything at all against her skin felt excruciating and it wasn’t even consistent across her body let alone consistent day by day. It was worst when her hands lost all sensation though, she was so reliant on them to communicate with Yaz because hearing was consistently bad to worse, even with the sound amplification strips she couldn’t hear properly, like her head was still stuck in a vat of concrete. If there was no other sound at all _and_ she really concentrated _and_ Yaz was standing in the right place relative to her, she could make out what she was saying, just about anyway. Her sight was the most difficult really. If the light was just right she could see vague, blurry shadows that made little to no sense other than she knew not to walk into them. When there was too much light her eyes watered so much, she had to close them and when there wasn’t enough light she still couldn’t see. And all of that was on a good day, on a not good day, there was nothing to work with at all. It was so disorienting, never knowing where she would be from one hour to the next with what she could and couldn’t sense. She hated it. How was anyone supposed to live like this. She tried to remember what had happened to the person who had been suffering with it, she was pretty sure they had died. That didn’t sound so bad anymore.

Her fingers met the smooth, fibreglass stick that had appeared. Yaz had told her it was gleaming white with two, broad, red stripes around the bottom and a black, rubber handle. It was a cross between a deafBlind cane that Yaz would be familiar with and telepathic technology from somewhere like Gallifrey or another telepathic species. It was supposed to communicate with her telepathically, so she knew what was in front of her and she could navigate safely but even her telepathy was off now and the few times Yaz had persuaded her to use it, she hadn’t been able to get much from it.

“Yaz, are you here?” she called again loudly. She clutched at the sofa again, speaking and not hearing the sound of her own voice made her feel like the world was about to tilt out from underneath her. But Yaz didn’t appear.

“YAZ!” she shouted.

Nothing. No sound. No Yaz.

She opened her mouth and _screamed_. A high-pitched, piercing scream, the type to shatter glass, full of pain and anguish, none of which she could hear, and her body curled reflexively into a ball. She fell off the sofa, banging into the table but she didn’t even notice as the howls overtook her whole body, filling her mind though not her ears.

Yaz had almost finished her walk around the island. It was still cold, bitterly cold, but she couldn’t work out why spring didn’t seem to have arrived. It was almost comforting in its unerring consistency though. As she stood there, it started to snow. Huge, heavy flakes that, as she picked up the pace, were already settling, creating a fluffy blanket over the island.

As the cottage came into view, the peace was shattered as a piercing scream punctured the air. Yaz _ran_ , flying into the cottage at top speed, ready to defend them from whatever was happening, fully expecting that the prison guards had somehow got through the defences and were trying to take the Doctor back there against her will.

But when she burst through the door, she couldn’t even see the Doctor, let alone anyone else though she could hear her. Pulling off her damp outer layer while running around the sofa at the same time she saw that the Doctor was curled into a tight ball on the floor, howling, pulling at her hair and squeezed between the sofa and the low table in front of it. Yaz could see her hearing aids on the table so there was no point in talking to her, but she dropped to her knees, right in front of her so if she opened her eyes she would get some visual input of her.

Yaz carefully reached out and tapped just above her elbow with three fingers, the way she always did when she wanted her attention and. As she expected, the Doctor startled violently at the contact and Yaz winced as she banged her head against the coffee table though the Doctor didn’t react.

Yaz was gentle as she captured the Doctor’s hands, stopping their self-destructive habits. The Doctor struggled against her for a moment but Yaz ignored her, pulling her in close and holding her tightly. She was bleeding from a small cut on her cheek from where she had presumably banged it on the table when she had fallen. She gathered her in close, tucking the Doctor’s head under her chin and rocking them both. It was so hard to comfort her when she couldn’t talk to her, she was pinning the Doctor’s arms to her body to stop her from hurting herself any further so she couldn’t sign at the same time but the Doctor probably couldn’t take on any words right now anyway, not when she was this distressed.

The Doctor continued to howl, like an animal in pain. Yaz had no clues about yet about what had upset her so much yet, had something specific happened or was the reality of her situation sinking in?

As the Doctor slowly calmed, Yaz released her arms, trusting that the Doctor wouldn’t hurt herself and instead took hold of her hands to talk to her.

“What happened?” she signed. She was so worried about the Doctor, but it was hard to communicate that using tactile sign language.

The Doctor shrugged listlessly, allowing her head to fall back against Yaz’s shoulder, completely exhausted.

Yaz sighed. Getting through to her was so hard. She stretched, grabbing at a box of tissues behind her and pressed one carefully against the cut on the Doctor’s cheek, just holding the Doctor until the bleeding stopped. The Doctor made no move to stop her or acknowledge her. When she was satisfied that the cut had stopped bleeding, Yaz reached behind her again and found the hearing aids, dropping them into her hands which she accepted reluctantly and put in.

“Talk to me Doctor, please. I want to help you.” Yaz told her when the Doctor was wearing them.

“M’fine.” She muttered, her voice hoarse and rusty.

“No you’re not. And I don’t expect you to be. _Please_ , let me help you."

The Doctor didn’t answer.

“Come on” Yaz urged gently. “Let’s go for a walk.”

The Doctor looked reluctant but she didn’t actually protest and Yaz helped her gently to her feet, leading her over to the coat rack and handing her the wraps she had been wearing. The Doctor sighed loudly when Yaz pressed the cane into her hand, the cottage had produced it about a fortnight ago and she was slowly learning to use it, when Yaz could persuade her to try, but she accepted it reluctantly. Yaz wrapped herself up again and they left, the Doctor holding onto Yaz’s arm, using her as a guide.

The snow had settled around the cottage, but the beach was clear and Yaz carefully guided the Doctor down there, relieved when she actually put some effort into using the cane. She wondered how much information her brain was taking in telepathically today. Sometimes she got too much feedback and could read every one of Yaz’s emotions with the slightest touch, others she couldn’t get it to work at all.

They walked slowly, they were in no rush and the Doctor always seemed calmer outside. After they had walked for half an hour or so Yaz put her hand on the Doctor’s arm, signalling to her to stop and then placed her hand on an upturned log so she could sit.

“Wanna talk about it?” Yaz invited, signing as she spoke.

“I don’t… I… it’s like I'm still in prison.” She said finally, letting her hands drop lethargically into her lap. “I’m so tired Yaz. It’ not supposed to be this hard… it’s like I'm being held hostage by my own body and it won’t do what I want it to because my senses are like… like they belong to someone else and I’m trying to read them. I’m talking to you right now Yaz, I know I am, but I can't hear myself, it’s so confusing.”

Yaz was surprised, it was the first time she had referenced where she had been directly. It felt like the most honest thing she had said. The mere fact that she was answering at all, never mind in full sentences, was surprising really.

Yaz nudged her hands back into the Doctors. “Doctor, I can't even imagine how hard this is for you or how trapped you must be feeling inside your own head. But this is so different to prison. You’re not alone here. I'm not leaving you.”

“You should.”

Yaz blinked, trying to compute what the Doctor had said to her. Trying not to get angry about it.

“DON’T say that. Not now, not ever. I’ve been here with you for months Doctor. I don’t know how long exactly but it’s at least six, I have been right here beside you. I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what you need Doctor, I'm right here.”

The Doctor drew her feet up, her knees tucked under her chin and her arms wrapped tightly around herself like she was physically holding herself together. She looked so _small_. But Yaz was running out of ideas. She needed… _more_. 

“Doctor, do you think it would be helpful to go home, maybe see Ryan and Graham?” Yaz suggested finally.

The Doctor flinched and Yaz was forcefully reminded that Sheffield wasn’t _her_ home, no matter how much she sounded like a local.

“I didn’t mean…” she started but the Doctor took her hands back, cutting her off.

“I know what you meant Yaz. But I don’t want Ryan and Graham to se me like this… I don’t want _you_ to see me like this, it’s just a bit late for that right now. I'm not the Doctor, I don’t know who I am but it’s not her.”

“Ryan and Graham love you no matter what, they won’t care that you’re… struggling right now Doctor, they’re just going to be so happy that you’re not dead.” Yaz signed earnestly into her palm.

The Doctor lifted her head, squinting through the dark glasses that were protecting her eyes.

“You thought I was dead?” she sounded so upset at the thought.

“What were we supposed to think Doctor? You told us to live great lives and then left to sacrifice yourself. You didn’t come back.”

“How long?”

“Does it matter?”

“How long?” she demanded.

“A little over a year.” Yaz admitted.

“Stars, I'm so sorry Yaz.”

“Hardly your fault Doctor. It’s fine, really.”

“Yaz?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go home.”

She stood up suddenly, wavering slightly as she found her balance, the white and red cane held diagonally across her body and her hand out to catch Yaz’s arm, a position she remembered well from when her former self had several months even more blind than she was now. She’d had sonic sunglasses back then but honestly; she didn’t think she could take the headaches that came with them. The ones she was getting from the sound amplification strips were bad enough.

Yaz guided her back to the cottage, the device from Jack was sitting in the top drawer of the chest beside the bed. Was she ready to go back to the real world? Yaz wasn’t sure. But she wasn’t convinced that the that the island was the best place for her anymore. She needed her friends, she needed more to stimulate her still (hopefully) healing senses but most of all, she needed to not be confined and cocooned anymore.

“Are you sure about this?” Yaz signed. “I don’t think we can come back if it’s too much…”

The Doctor nodded but she didn’t look sure. Yaz took hold of her hand tightly, not sure what was about to happen. She fastened the bracelet around her wrist securely, took a deep breath and twisted the dial that Jack had shown her before he had disappeared. 

For a moment it was like nothing was happening. Then it was like…

Yaz linked her arm through the Doctor’s to help her stay grounded and took her hands to sign to her. “it’s like the walls are melting or something.” She explained, this time glad how frightened she was wasn’t coming across to the Doctor.

“What can you see?”

“I don’t know… it’s… we’re not moving. I don’t know what’s happening Doctor.” She knew she wasn’t keeping the fear out of her hands now, they were shaking, she had no idea what was happening but she was scared.

The melting continued, the cottage felt like it was expanding, its soft, rustic lines disappearing and being replaced with harsh metal, the warm glow from the fire was still the same. The fireplace was morphing into a familiar shape.

Yaz staggered back, unable to process what was happening and pulling the Doctor with her.

“Yaz, what’s happening?” the Doctor shouted, clearly picking up on Yaz’s agitation and sounding worried.

“It’s the TARDIS Doctor. We’re on the TARDIS… and I know this sounds insane, but I think we’ve been here the whole time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - Finally Home


	13. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has helped me with this fic, especially those of you who I am honoured to call my friends and who have been so unendingly kind and patient with me the last few weeks . 
> 
> Thankyou (in no particular order) to WalkerLister, Emmyphant, Wonderfulbluishbox and Shambling. 
> 
> And thankyou to everyone who left me a review, you have all been so kind and supportive.

Yaz had gently guided the Doctor from the TARDIS, across the street and up the three flights of stairs to her flat. Her phone had come back to life of its own accord, and like Jack had promised, it was just a few minutes since she had left six months ago. It was a bizarre realisation, even for someone who had been travelling in time for a couple of years. The Doctor was clinging tightly to Yaz’s arm, the cane that had still been in her hands from when they had walked around the island… TARDIS an hour ago and she was using it to help navigate the stairs.

“This is it” Yaz announced, letting them in. “Would you like me to show you around now or do you need to rest first?”

She was surprised that the Doctor had agreed to leave the TARDIS at all actually, she had assumed the Doctor would want to stay, it was her home, but she had been almost eager to leave. Yaz knew she had been taken from aboard the TARDIS, maybe at the moment the memories were just too strong.

“I need to stop.” She admitted slowly.

“That’s okay” Yaz signed. “I’m going to take you into my bedroom, you can lie down in there… it’s been a while, don’t remember if the sheets are clean.” She joked but the Doctor didn’t react.

It must be a lot for her to take in, it had been a long time since she had been anywhere other than a prison cell and the island… TARDIS. Yaz placed her hand on the bed so she could sit down and guided her hand to the bedside table, helping her put the shaded glasses and hearing aids on it, put her cane on the floor and helped her out of her shoes. She was trembling, from fear or exhaustion Yaz wasn’t sure, and she helped her lie down where she curled up into a ball.

“I'm going into the living room Doctor, shout if you need anything. Try and get some rest.” Yaz signed.

The Doctor instantly closed her eyes and pulled the blanket over her head, cocooning herself tightly. It was something she had done in the cottage too, to block out the over stimulation, and Yaz left her to it, turning out the lights and leaving the door ajar.

She walked back into her main room; a dining area, work space and living room all rolled into one, a separate kitchen and a bathroom just off the tiny hallway where the front door was. It wasn’t much but it was home, and it was _so_ good to be there. Yaz found herself sitting on the sofa, staring out at the window onto the busy Sheffield street below her, just enjoying the hustle and bustle of all the people going about their ordinary lives. She could see the TARDIS but there was nothing wrong with her perception filter as no one else paid her a second glance. After being away for so long, Yaz felt like there should be things she should be doing but in this timeline, she’d only been gone ten minutes. Barely enough time to have drunk a cup of tea. Her work schedule was on the fridge, she didn’t have a shift for another few days having just come off two weeks of nights with no time off after one of her colleagues had needed some emergency time off. She was free to do what she needed to do.

Yaz’s phone buzzed and she glanced at it, it was Ryan on their group Whatsapp. When the Doctor had died (or hadn’t died as it turned out) they had kept the same Whatsapp group at Yaz’s insistence. Just in case she wasn’t dead and had received them.

_Don’t forget, dinner at ours tonight. Graham’s going to the good chippy!_

She had forgotten actually. Not that she felt she should be blamed for that, she had made the plans months ago after all. She considered cancelling but she knew the two men wouldn’t be impressed, she had been cancelling on them a lot, so taken up with her desperate search to find the Doctor. But there was no way Yaz was going to leave her alone tonight while she went out, nor would she subject her to a fairly long walk through Sheffield. But maybe Ryan and Graham could come to her flat, they hadn’t seen it yet she realised guiltily and she’d been living there for nearly eight months. Not tonight but tomorrow. Give the Doctor a chance to settle. Yaz wasn’t sure how long she would be staying, she certainly wasn’t in any fit state to go anywhere just at the moment. Yaz dialled Ryan’s number.

 _“Hey Yaz”_ he greeted cheerfully. _“How are…”_

“Is Graham with you?” Yaz interrupted.

_“Yeah…”_

“Good. I need to speak to both of you, can you put me on speaker?”

Yaz could hear Ryan call for Graham and noises that sounded like he was heading down the stairs followed by a soft thud where he had presumably put the phone down on the table.

_“Alright cockle? We’re both here, are you alright?”_

“No, not really.” Yaz admitted. “It’s the Doctor…”

She heard both men sigh and she could picture their shared look, the same one they always had when she brought up the woman in the present tense – exasperation, worry, concern…

_“Yaz love, you need to start moving on. You’re torturing yourself like this. She wouldn’t want this for you, she’d want you to be happy.”_

She’d heard it all before. “She’s sleeping in my bed right now.”

There was silence.

_“Yaz…”_

“I haven’t lost my marbles Ryan” Yaz snapped, more harshly than she meant to. “God, where to start. About an hour ago for you Captain Jack Harkness appeared in my living room, he told me she was in prison and he was part of a team that going to liberate her and a lot of other people. He took me to this place, I thought it was some sort of remote, Scottish island. We’ve been there for about six months though because we weren’t really on an island, it was the TARDIS…”

_“Yaz, you’ve been working a lot of nights love, haven’t you? Have you been getting enough sleep?” Graham interrupted._

“Oh for goodness sake! I’m not crazy. Look!”

Yaz flipped on video chat and carried them through to the bedroom. The Doctor hadn’t moved but Yaz carefully eased the duvet away just enough so Ryan and Graham could see her face. There was silence and Yaz covered the Doctor back up, she slept like that for a reason, and tip-toed back to the main room. She wasn’t sure why she bothered, she could have had a brass band in there and it wouldn’t have woken the Doctor.

 _“How is she?”_ asked Ryan eventually, recovering from the shock faster than Graham.

“Not good.” Yaz said slowly. “Jack reckons she was held in brutal conditions for close to twenty years, in a cold, dark cell with no contact with anyone or anything. When Jack brought her to me, he didn’t stay because he had a lot of work to liberate the whole place she was in, she was _so_ sick. She only had one heartbeat and Time Lords have this thing apparently, when they’re deprived of stimulation that their senses shutdown so she couldn’t taste or smell or feel or see or hear… and she hadn’t moved in _such_ a long time. She looked like a skeleton and she was so weak, she couldn’t even sit let alone move around. God it’s been so hard…”

 _“And now?”_ Graham persisted.

“The sensory shutdown is a spectrum, some Time Lords are capable of making a full recovery apparently…”

 _“From your tone, I’m assuming that she hasn’t done that?”_ Ryan clarified.

“No, she hasn’t. On a good day while wearing her hearing aids she can sort of hear me as long as there’s no background noise. She can't really see and she’s very sensitive to light. She has a cane to help her navigate that’s supposed to be telepathic and provide her with feedback, but her telepathy comes and goes. All her senses do, anywhere on a spectrum of non-existent to terrible really. She’s incredibly depressed, frightened, difficult, serious issues with sensory overload… God it’s been so hard… It’s just been the two of us for about six months or so, it’s hard to keep track but she hasn’t been able to talk to me and just trying to get through to her…” Yaz held back a sob. It felt _so_ good to talk to someone about it.

 _“What can we do?”_ Ryan asked slowly.

“I'm not coming round tonight, she’d never cope. But maybe you two could come here tomorrow night?” Yaz suggested.

_“Of course we will.”_

_“How are you communicating with her love?”_

“Sign language mostly, she puts her hands on top of mine and she can mostly follow what I'm saying. She can speak but doesn’t for the most part, I don’t think she likes knowing she’s talking but not being able to hear herself…” Yaz broke off when she heard a small sob from the other end of the phone.

 _“Graham’s had to step out”_ Ryan explained. _“But we’ll be with you tomorrow okay? Do you need anything right now?”_

“No. We’re okay, thanks though… actually, you could look up the DeafBlind manual alphabet so you can talk to her directly… and if she can't or won’t see you, don’t be upset okay?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Ryan?”

_“I’m still here Yaz. I'm going to go and check on Graham, we’ll see you tomorrow.”_

His voice was shaking, it must be a big shock for the two of them. She’d had plenty of time to get used to it and she was struggling so she certainly didn’t blame him.

“Bye Ryan, see you tomorrow.”

Yaz sighed heavily as she dropped her phone onto the sofa. She hadn’t wanted to upset them but they needed to know. It had been a shock for her too, she’d just had six months to get used to it.

The Doctor had ended up sleeping right through the night and Yaz was glad she had bought a sofa bed rather than a regular sofa. She had spent time that morning showing the Doctor around, guiding her slowly and patiently through the flat. Her eyes weren’t having a good day, even with the lights off and Yaz’s cheap curtains closed they were watering insistently and stinging so Yaz had rummaged through her drawers until she found the sleep mask she wore after a night shift which the Doctor had put on, almost sighing with relief as she did so.

It made Yaz incredibly sad that she was actively choosing to block out any chance of seeing but if her eyes were really that painful… she didn’t want her to be in pain above all else. Her hearing was marginally better but unfortunately the flat just wasn’t silent, there was constant, low level noise coming from her neighbours and the streets and it seemed to be driving the Doctor mad, she kept fiddling with her hearing aids uncomfortably but seemed reluctant to get rid of them entirely while wearing the sleep mask. It had been making her agitated all day and Yaz knew they would have to build up her tolerance to them if she was to be able to make use of them.

Luckily, as the afternoon drew in, the sun coming into the flat shifted and the Doctor was finally able to remove the sleep mask and just use her dark glasses although as soon as she did so, her hearing aids were abandoned.

Shortly after five, there was a knock on the door.

“I think that’s Ryan and Graham, I’m going to bring them in here.” She signed to the Doctor who was sitting on the sofa, fiddling anxiously with the cane which she wouldn’t let out of her sight… well out of her grasp.

She nodded, unsure. It was a look that was mirrored on Ryan and Graham’s faces when Yaz opened the door to let them in.

Yaz practically fell into them, she was so relieved to see them, and she hugged them tightly.

“You alright Yaz?”

“Yeah, just so nice to see people who can actually talk to me.” She admitted.

“How is she?” Graham asked, stepping over the threshold.

“It’s been a hard day. Her hearing aids have been driving her nuts, she’s refusing to wear them now, so she won’t be able to hear you at all. She has some sight today, she can see shadows but she’s wearing dark glasses because her eyes are painful so she might be able to see that you’re there, but not clearly and probably not enough to tell you apart, you’ll just be vague, blurry shadows if you exist for her at all. Her smell and taste are even. Don’t be weirded out if she sniffs you, she does that a lot. Touch is all over the place but you’re going to have to touch her so she knows you’re there.”

Ryan and Graham stared at her for a moment, Yaz appreciated that that was a lot of information to get very fast but the Doctor would know she was being talked about even if she didn’t know what was being said.

“But she hated being touched.” Ryan pointed out.

“I know, she still does but if you don’t, you may as well not be here. You need to let her know who you are.”

“How do we do that?” Graham asked nervously.

“Did you look at the DeafBlind manual alphabet?”

Both boys nodded.

“Like that. She’ll understand though she might not be very patient, she’s very agitated and becomes angry very quickly. Just be patient with her.” Yaz advised, leading them into the main room where the Doctor was curled up in a tight ball on the sofa.

“Oh Doc.” Whispered Graham sadly, taking in the sight of her. She looked so lost and small, still far too thin though no longer emaciated like she had been when Yaz had got her. Her hair was lank and thin, cropped short because she couldn’t stand it tickling her neck and her skin had an unhealthy grey pallor despite all their walks.

He and Ryan watched as Yaz walked over to her and tapped her on the arm carefully. She startled slightly but found Yaz’s hands, resting her own on them as Yaz signed something to her. She physically shrank in on herself and held Yaz’s hand with a death grip but put her other hand out bravely.

“She knows you’re standing there staring at her, she’s still the Doctor, one of you needs to come and say hello.”

_She knew they were there. Yaz had told her they were, and it was like she could feel their presence. But they weren’t saying anything, or at least not to her, they could have been talking to Yaz. That was just rude, and she grunted loudly in frustration._

_Then someone was touching her and it wasn’t Yaz. She knew it had to be Ryan or Graham but she wasn’t sure who. Big, clumsy, heavy hands that were attempting to spell something and doing a terrible job. She had no idea what that was supposed to say and she snatched her hand back, not liking it at all. It made her want to scream in frustration though she resisted the temptation_

_Yaz’s small, comfortingly familiar hands nudged hers and she rested her hands against Yaz’s._

_“They’re trying, they haven’t done this before. Let him try again, I’ll help you understand if their signing isn’t good.”_

_The Doctor glared at her. She was the one who couldn’t see or hear or do anything she wanted to. Why was she the one having to be patient? But she stuck her hand back out again petulantly._

_There was a pause and then C-Y-T-M from the same clumsy hands._

_What the hell was that supposed to mean?_

_Yaz signed into her other hand, she was presumably speaking out loud at the same time._

_“Ryan, that literally didn’t spell anything.”_

_Then someone else was touching her. Calloused, lined hands, touching her delicately like she was made of glass. She didn’t like it, it was making her skin crawl, the light, almost tickling sensation was setting her battered nervous system off into a panic and she tucked her hand into her armpit, breathing heavily. She knew it had to be Graham by process of elimination, but she couldn’t stand that sensation._

_She felt Yaz adjust herself beside her but it was all becoming too much and she grabbed her hair, pulling it so she had something, anything, solid to focus on, a scream escaping from her lips. She couldn’t hear it but she could feel it in her throat. She focused on the burning sensation, the heavy pull against her head, strong sensations that reminded her she still existed._

As soon as the scream left the Doctor’s lips, Graham backed up, terrified.

“What’s she doing?” Graham shouted over the racket as Yaz slipped off the sofa, crouching in front of the Doctor.

“She’s experiencing sensory overload; she’s trying to ground herself.” Yaz explained, fleetingly wondering what her neighbours would be thinking and wondering how good the soundproofing was.

“What do we do?” Ryan asked, he hadn’t moved and was staring slack jawed at the scene in front of him.

He watched as Yaz firmly detatched the Doctor’s hands from her head, wincing as he saw just how much blonde came away with them. Yaz wasn’t talking to her, he supposed because she couldn’t hear it anyway but to his surprise, instead of backing away and giving her space, Yaz got in closer, wrapping her tightly in her arms.

Yaz held the Doctor tightly, pinning her arms to her side while she did so to stop her self-destructive habits. She could feel the other woman trembling beneath her as she struggled to regain her control, to come back to the present in a world she couldn’t perceive or understand.

Yaz was vaguely aware of Graham leaving the room but she concentrated on what she was doing because it was slowly working. The Doctor was breathing a little easier, she had stopped screaming and she had allowed her head to drop forward to rest against Yaz’s shoulder.

Ryan kept watching as the Doctor slowly calmed. Eventually she nudged Yaz lightly with her hand and signed something to her.

“You have _nothing_ to be sorry for.” Yaz said out loud, signing as she spoke.

The Doctor signed something else.

“Of course they're still here Doctor, we’re your fam. We’re not leaving you just because you’re finding things hard.”

Ryan wasn’t sure but it didn’t seem like the Doctor was too happy about that. She and Yaz signed to each other, a private conversation because Yaz had stopped interpreting and then Yaz turned to him.

“Ready for round two?” Yaz asked him.

Ryan swallowed and nodded nervously. What the hell was he supposed to say to her? Sorry you’ve been in prison for twenty year and lost all your senses but hey, I finished my NVQ, how about that?

“Ryan?” Yaz prompted, “She needs you.”

_She needed him. Of course she did. She had lost everything and there he was, dithering in the corner._

He nervously moved forward and sat on the low coffee table, opposite the Doctor.

“Put your hand out.” Yaz instructed and he did so apprehensively, not sure what was going to happen next.

Yaz signed something to the Doctor and then took her hand, guiding it towards Ryan’s until they met. He watched her every moment carefully, how she gave a small gasp as their hands met, how she kept a very tight hold of Yaz with her other hand as her fingers lightly probed his hand, checking each finger, lingering over a small, still-healing cut from his work at the garage with a small furrow in her forehead. She gradually let go of Yaz, though they were still sitting sufficiently close so that they were touching, she was probing him all over now. Running her hands up and down his arms, over his head. At one point, she pulled him close enough to sniff… Ryan was only thankful that she stopped short of licking him.

“What’s she doing?” he asked Yaz, slightly perturbed.

“Confirming it’s you as best she can.” Yaz explained. “She’ll stop in a minute when she’s satisfied.”

And stop she did, the smallest of smiles gracing her features.

“Ryan.” She said softly, her voice small and croaky.

“Hi Doctor.” He greeted, smiling when she clasped his hand firmly.

Yaz nudged her free hand and signed while she spoke. “Graham’s right behind you Doctor.”

Ryan realised he hadn’t even noticed his grandad reappearing, his face a little more damp than it had been.

_Yaz… Ryan… Graham… how many times had she dreamt of this moment. How many hours had she spent imagining what it would be like to be reunited with her fam._

_She kept tight hold of Ryan with one hand, now she had it she wasn’t letting go and tentatively reached her other hand behind her until she was rewarded by the feel of that calloused palm. She pulled it closer, insistently, breathing in the scent of Graham, laundry soap and sandwiches and tea and newspapers._

_A small hand reached around her shoulders… Yaz… and held her tightly._

_And she relaxed. For the first time in she didn’t know how long, the Doctor relaxed, safe in the embrace of her fam._

Epilogue – 6 months later.

It was hot out, Yaz could feel the sun beating down on her neck as Graham spread the picnic out on the blanket and Ryan lounged in the shade provided by the TARDIS, gleaming majestically beside them.

“Where’s the Doctor gone?” he asked lazily.

“To make drinks apparently, we may never see her again.” Yaz joked.

“That or she’ll poison us.” Ryan muttered darkly, thinking back to the ‘cookies’ she had made a few weeks ago.

But at that moment, the Doctor appeared, her hearing aids were hiding behind her ears and she had her cane in her right hand which she used to help her navigate the uneven ground confidently.

“I made iced-tea… possibly” she grinned, gesturing with the large jug in her left hand which slopped, spilling a little of it’s contents on Graham’s head.

“Oi! Watch it Doc!” he complained, taking the tea off her before she spilled anymore while Ryan laughed.

“Would if I could Graham!” she retorted cheerfully, accepting Yaz’s hand to guide her around the plates of food.

Yaz sighed in contentment. It felt like a million years since she had been standing on another beach with the Doctor. The weather then had been as brutal as today’s was kind. Like the contrast of the woman herself. Then she had been unconscious, in a heap on the ground, helpless, dependent and desperately sick, totally unable to access the world. Now, her senses were far from perfect but she was also far from helpless. As her tolerance of her hearing aids had increased so, apparently, had their strength. Sitting in the calm quiet with only the waves audible she was perfectly capable of following and taking part in their conversation. Her sight, while far from perfect, was enough to keep her out of trouble… or at least as out of trouble as she ever was.

“Sandwich Doc?” Graham offered, holding the plate out in front of her.

She accepted one readily, dropping it onto her plate and helping herself to the box of custard creams on her right.

Ryan often teased her about how no matter how bad her senses had got in the last few months, she could always be relied upon to seek out the custard creams with whatever sense was the strongest.

The picnic was good, the TARDIS knew how to look after her occupants well but, true to form, the Doctor soon grew restless with the sunbathing that the boys were indulging in.

“Fancy a walk Yaz?” she offered.

“Sure.” Yaz agreed easily, not really one for sunbathing either.

She stood up, letting the Doctor latch lightly onto her elbow for guidance.

They walked in pleasant silence for a few minutes, the Doctor apparently taking great delight in the feeling of the sand against her feet before letting out a most uncharacteristic shriek as the frigid water swirled unexpectedly around her ankles.

“I realised” she said after she recovered from the shock, “that I never thanked you.”

“Thanked me? What for?”

“For everything Yasmin Khan.

“You don’t…”

“Yes, I do. Thankyou Yaz, for everything. For putting up with me, for taking care of me, for being there. Thankyou.”

She pulled Yaz in closer, into a warm embrace that she hoped said far more than her words ever could. Standing there, the two of them on a lonely stretch of beach that could have been anywhere, they could have been the only two people in the universe. 


End file.
